


Aimless, Hopeless, Fearless

by Rubyleaf



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alrighty after half a year's break I'm back on the pain train, Kimishita just wants to be loved, Love triangle that's more complex than it looks at first glance, M/M, Mizuki doesn't understand romance, Ooshiba loves too much, Screwed-up relationships, THIS HERE is angst, also a take on proving your not-ship won't work without demonizing anybody, drama everywhere, just in case you thought HWC was angst, please help them, they all need help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 228,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyleaf/pseuds/Rubyleaf
Summary: Kimishita doesn't know where he went wrong, if he shouldn't have confessed his feelings to Mizuki, or if he shouldn't even have fallen for him in the first place. Either way now it's too late, and he finds himself stuck in a relationship with a well-meaning friend who doesn't love him back, but at least he has Kiichi to pick up the shards.





	1. Taken

It had all started with a surprise. A simple, harmless feeling.

Kimishita remembered that day like it was yesterday. He only had to close his eyes, and the scene came alive in his mind, as vivid and vibrant as if it were real again. He felt the grass under his cleats, the sun and the fresh spring breeze on his skin, the energy surging through his body as he ran across the pitch. The sky was as blue as only a spring sky could get, the grass greener than ever. His new teammates’ voices rang across the pitch, shouting things as he ran, the ball at his feet, lightly obeying his every command.

It was the perfect day for testing his limits, for trying something difficult just to see if he could pull it off. He felt daring and powerful, and not even the unexpected weakness of his teammates could pull down his mood. He wanted to keep trying. He wanted to take risks. He wanted to send lightning-fast passes just to see if there was someone, anyone on this teem who could keep up with them, just for the hell of it.

Not that he expected much. But he wanted to try.

So when he saw  _him_ , he didn’t think twice about sending that pass. He expect anything. He didn’t think at all. He simply did.

Kimishita remembered the following seconds in slow motion, burned forever into his mind. Footsteps speeding up. Long, powerful legs shooting out to stop the ball in a masterful receive and slam it straight into the goal in one fierce, fluid motion.

Cheers that he almost didn’t register.

A figure turning around to look at him, strong and athletic, sun-tanned and raven-haired. Intense dark eyes looking straight into his.

Sparks of electricity.

An excitement that buzzed all through his body, crackling and sparkling. His heart that beat faster and faster. A smile that spread over his face, awed and surprised and fired up and  _happy_.

“Nice pass,” a calm voice said as the game resumed, and Kimishita didn’t answer. He simply chased for the ball to pass it to that boy again.

Surprise turned into awe. Awe turned into infatuation, and infatuation turned into something he’d rather not describe with words. And all Kimishita knew was that if he had known what he would get himself into, he’d never have sent that pass.

It had all been his fault. He should never have allowed himself to let his guard down, never allowed himself to catch feelings beyond friendly respect and admiration. But falling had been so easy when it came to Mizuki Hisahito, and things had been going so well, so treacherously well that losing his heart had almost felt like a natural conclusion, a stupid, heart-wrenching, painful conclusion. Before he knew what was happening his hopes had gone up, the courage to dream again stirring in its cage where he had locked it away, and he had lost balance and fallen straight into the rabbit hole, only to crash violently into reality as his senses came roaring back to life, furiously reminding him that he’d never stand a chance.

He was sure they were right. He was sure someone like Mizuki would never fall in love with someone like him. And yet there was a tiny part of him that kept holding on, clinging to the last bit of hope like a lifeline, stubbornly, desperately insisting that maybe, possibly, he might still have a chance, that he shouldn’t give up while he didn’t know for sure.

He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t move on, and it was slowly eating him up from the inside.

Enough. It was enough. He couldn’t continue on like this. He had to give up hope. He had to move on. And there was only one way to do that.

He had to be rejected, once and for all.

\---

Kimishita tried to pretend he wasn’t shaking. He tried to pretend he wasn’t a bundle of raw nerves, trembling and panicking and at war with himself.

Thoughts were clashing in his head. Part of him wanted to backpedal, furiously screaming at him to stop while he still could, before he embarrassed himself and got his heart broken and lost the last bit of hope he still had. The other part was urging him to go on, pushing him forward to gather his courage and get it all over with and be free. His mind was reeling. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, a rushed, frantic beat that seemed to match the speed of his conflicting thoughts.

_Just talk to him after practice._

No way. He couldn’t do it. He’d never find the courage–

No. He had to. And so he would.

The day crept by at a painfully slow pace. His body felt cold and shaky, his mind flitting back and forth between Mizuki and himself, trying to imagine what to say, what to do. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think, he barely spoke, and when he tried to eat he couldn’t bring himself to swallow a single bite. Everything kept slipping through his fingers. Maybe he should back out. Leave things be. He had managed so far, he could manage for a little longer. The third-years’ graduation wasn’t that far away.

No. No, he had to do it, no matter what his pride said, no matter how afraid he was. He had to face his fears, even if he still didn’t know how.

Lunch break ended, and he didn’t notice the worried looks of his teammates. Afternoon classes went by, and he didn’t remember a thing. Then practice started, and he barely remembered how to move anymore.

He should probably ask Mizuki to talk to him later, just so he wouldn’t disappear before he had the chance. Mizuki was dense. He wouldn’t suspect something was up. They had talked before, about different things, even if Mizuki had always been the one initiating everything.

_Just ask him._

Mizuki stepped into the locker room, and Kimishita swallowed hard, straightening up where he sat and opening his mouth.

No words came out.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! What was wrong with him? He wanted to, and yet–

Mizuki got changed in record time, all the while talking to the other third-years, and the whole group left the club room and walked out onto the pitch. Kimishita followed numbly. His hands were so cold and clammy he could barely feel them anymore.

Catch him alone and ask him to stay after practice. That was all he had to do.

Easier said than done.

Every time he looked at him, Mizuki was surrounded by people. Every time he managed to gather his courage, someone else would precede him and snatch Mizuki away again, and on the rare occasions when he was alone Kimishita’s legs froze up underneath him, refusing to walk over and say a single word. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He had always been able to approach him easily and talk to him. Why was it that now, now that he had something so important to say, he was completely and utterly tongue-tied?

He tried not to let it get to him. He tried to act normal, but it was hard. He was still shaky, easily startled. His mind was all over the place. From the corner of his eye he could see people watching him with concerned looks on their faces, but nobody had the courage to approach him and ask if something was wrong.

“Hey, asshole!”

Well, almost nobody.

Kiichi was stomping up to him, an expression of obvious anger on his face. “What the fuck was that just now?” he yelled, stopping right in front of him and grabbing him by the collar. “Are you blind today or what? I was totally free! You could’ve passed to me and I would’ve scored! Stop fucking staring at Captain all the time and send me a fucking pass, shithead!”

Kimishita jolted, his eyes flitting over at Mizuki to see if he’d heard. His cheeks flushed red. He clenched his teeth.  _Don’t show it, don’t show it. Act normal._

“Shut up!” he yelled back, all the stress and shakiness bottled up inside him erupting in a burst of rage. “If I didn’t pass to you it’s because you suck, moron! Come bitch to me again when you’ve learned to hit the fucking goal when it’s right under your nose!”

Kiichi’s grip tightened on his shirt, his knuckles turning white. “Fuck off! I can hit the goal! If I don’t it’s ‘cause your passes are shit!”

“ _You...!_ ”

Kimishita’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Hot fury burst through his body, anger, irritation, the burning roars of wounded pride. “You say that again!” he bellowed. “I work on perfecting my passes for years after years and you lazy ass have the nerve to tell me they don’t fit Your Majesty’s standards? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Kiichi flinched lightly at that, and Kimishita’s expression softened the tiniest bit. “What?” he snapped, not sure where he got all this anger from, why he had suddenly lashed out at something Kiichi told him on an almost daily basis. “Regretting your words now? That’s a first. I thought you entitled brat believed manners were large houses!”

“Hey!” It worked. The look of slight guilt disappeared from Kiichi’s face, and he went back to huffing and pouting like an offended child. “I know what manners are! I got more manners than you!”

“Do you now?” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Well, manners also mean not stomping up to someone yelling insults and grabbing their collar without warning! Ever stop to think about that, huh?”

“Shut–”

“Oh, right! You don’t think at all! My bad.” Kimishita grabbed one of Kiichi’s wrists, trying to yank it away from his shirt. “Now let go of me, you ass!”

Kiichi tightened his hold. “No!”

“Let  _go!_ ”

“ _I said no!_ ”

Kiichi’s voice was a burst of anger, so loud and desperate that Kimishita stopped in his tracks, forgetting his own fury. “I’m not gonna let go till you promise to pass to me next time!” he shouted, his face pulled into a stubborn grimace, his eyes almost pleading. “Don’t just look at Captain all the time, you stuck-up dickhead! I’m here too!”

Kimishita took a deep breath to snap a sharp response when something made him pause and look at Kiichi again.

Somehow his expression seemed slightly... odd. Like there was more behind his words than he was willing to say.

Kimishita shook it off. Must be his imagination.

“You’re such a kid,” he grumbled, not looking into Kiichi’s eyes. “Fine, I’ll send you a pass. Just one. You better not waste it!” He clicked his tongue. “Now stop throwing tantrums and start acting your age, you bone-headed drama queen!”

Kiichi opened his mouth to reply. Then he gave a slight huff, closed it again, and slowly let go of Kimishita’s shirt to turn and walk away.

Kimishita gazed after him, feeling a little guilty. Kiichi had a point. He’d been neglecting him again, even though Kiichi had been making serious progress lately, improving his technique and aim and slowly growing into a valuable asset for the team. He supposed he wasn’t wrong in demanding to have the spotlight too every once in a while.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he spun around to meet with an all-too-familiar pair of brown eyes. “You look better now,” Mizuki said matter-of-factly, giving him a thumbs-up with that ever-serious expression of his. “Good. You were looking stressed earlier.”

He stepped away, and Kimishita blinked. Then it hit him.

It was true. He didn’t feel as shaky anymore. And during his brief fight with Kiichi he had actually managed to forget about Mizuki for a second.

_You idiot. I can’t believe you were actually useful for once._

Taking a deep breath, Kimishita turned and hurried after Mizuki before his courage could fail him again, falling into stride next to him. “One thing, Captain,” he whispered. “If you’re not busy... please wait for me after practice.”

\---

The fight had only calmed him down for a moment. By the time he stepped out of the club room and went to join Mizuki behind the pitch his heart was pounding once more, his throat dry, his mind numb as his legs mechanically carried him across the grass, barely steady enough to hold him upright and growing heavier with every step.

There was no going back now. No, there still was. He could make up an excuse on what he wanted and get out of here. That sounded much easier. But he’d regret it afterwards, and he might not gather up his courage enough to even get to this point again after today.

No. For better or for worse, he had to get through this.

“Kimishita,” Mizuki greeted him, meeting his eyes with a concerned frown. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

Kimishita dropped his gaze.  _Idiot,_  he thought, clenching his fists.  _Stop being nice to me when I’m coming to you to crush all my hopes!_

“I’m... fine,” he stuttered, staring intently at the ground before his feet. “Don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“I’m  _fine!_ ” Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why was this bastard so kind now of all times, so brutally, cruelly kind? “Stop worrying about me, I can take care of myself! I’m not a kid!”

Mizuki still looked a little unconvinced. “Okay.”

Silence fell.

_Say it,_  a voice insisted in Kimishita’s head.  _Say it while you can!_

He didn’t want to say it. He wanted to run away, as far as possible, and never come back.

_Say it!_

“Captain,” he began slowly, his face heating up. “I...”

His mind felt blank. There were so many words he had prepared in his head, so many sentences he had tried out and moved around and changed and rephrased until he finally thought he had found the perfect things to say, but now that he was in the situation they all sounded childish and stupid. All the words, all the sentences had completely disappeared from his head.

Should he stop? It seemed so tempting. Brush it off, make up some kind of excuse and get out of here to never look Mizuki in the eye again. It sounded easier... easier than  _this_.

Kimishita glanced at Mizuki, who was still looking at him with that puzzled, concerned look on his face, and swallowed.

“I... like you.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. Damn it, he sounded like a complete idiot. Like? Not even a middle schooler would confess his feelings like that! What was wrong with him?

“Oh,” Mizuki said slowly, sounding confused but not unfriendly, almost affectionate. “That’s okay. I like you too, Kimishita.”

Kimishita looked up, butterflies stirring up inside him. Then he looked at Mizuki’s face, and the realization hit him as his heart sank in his chest like a cold lump of granite.

This was Mizuki. Of course he’d misunderstand.

“Not like that!” he snapped, his entire face burning even as his insides felt like ice. “I don’t mean the... the friendly kind of like. I...” His throat was dry. He tried to clear it, but that only made it worse, as if his voice had turned into a castle made of overly dry sand, ready to crumble at any second. “I’m... in love with you!” he forced out through clenched teeth, feeling and sounding like a complete idiot. “And... I can’t stop it, no matter what I do. So please...” He took a deep breath and bowed low. “Reject me.”

For a moment Mizuki didn’t answer. Then his quiet voice cut through the silence, gentle but surprised.

“Why?”

Kimishita straightened up with a jolt, so baffled that he forgot to be ashamed for a second. “What do you mean, why?”

Mizuki tilted his head in question. “Why do you want to be rejected?” he asked. “Won’t that make you sad?”

So simple. He was so stupidly simple-minded that Kimishita almost laughed.

“Of course!” he snapped, turning away to hide the look on his face. “But I can handle that! It’s better than... what I’m feeling for you now!”

A lump caught in his throat at the last sentence, and Kimishita was glad that Mizuki couldn’t see his face.

Mizuki seemed to ponder that response for a while before speaking again. “I thought love was a happy feeling,” he said slowly. “Why does yours make you sad?”

Kimishita smirked bitterly. Wasn’t that obvious?

“Because some loves are one-sided!” he burst out, spinning around to glare at Mizuki, furious and pained. “Because it hurts, knowing you’ll never return my feelings! How do you think it feels to know you’ll never be good enough for the one you love, huh? Don’t play dumb–”

“Kimishita.”

He stopped in his tracks, his words still resounding in his head. What had he said, what had he done, he had never meant to blurt out all his insecurities–

“Kimishita,” Mizuki said gently, crossing the distance between them in a few determined steps and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Kimishita turned away, forcefully avoiding his eyes. “Of course you didn’t, it’s my fault–”

“If you’re in love with me, does that mean you want to go out with me?”

The question came completely out of left field. Kimishita choked on air, spinning around to stare at Mizuki again, trying to figure out if he had suddenly decided to make a joke. But the captain’s face was as serious as ever, his dark eyes gentle and inquiring.

“I...” Kimishita lowered his head, unsure what to say or what to feel. Under different circumstances, of course he would. But as long as things were like this... “That doesn’t matter. Unless...”

He didn’t finish the sentence.  _Unless you do like me back, and I never noticed. Which is good as impossible, so who cares anyway._

“If I go out with you... will that make you happy?”

Kimishita’s eyes darted up. “You can’t just–”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s  _not!_ ”

Before he knew what he was doing, Kimishita reached out and grabbed Mizuki’s shirt, his hands trembling with a million emotions he couldn’t name at all. “Don’t be stupid!” he shouted, not sure who he was talking to, himself or Mizuki. “You can’t just offer to go out with me just to make me happy! I could never ask you to force yourself into a relationship for my sake! I can’t accept that! So stop being a stupid selfless idiot and just reject me and be done!”

_Set me free. Don’t make me hope for something I have no right to demand. Please, stop tormenting me._

But Mizuki shook his head, stubborn and determined. “It’s okay,” he insisted. “You’re my friend, Kimishita. I like you. I don’t mind doing this for you.”

Kimishita was torn. One part was shouting at him to run, to reject Mizuki’s offer once and for all and get out of here and bury himself in his work until he forgot everything and everyone around him, everything that had happened today. But another part, a part that was growing stronger and stronger with every passing second, was whispering in his ear to give in to the temptation and accept everything that was offered to him.

_No. This won’t end well, and only an idiot wouldn’t realize that._

“Cut it out!” he yelled, furiously tearing away from Mizuki’s hand. “Don’t put this on the same level as some friendly favor! This is a  _relationship_  you’re talking about, don’t force yourself into one if you’re not in love!”

“But maybe I’ll fall in love.”

One sentence. One simple goddamn sentence. That was all it took to shoot straight into Kimishita’s heart and tear it to shreds with fear and frustration and impossible, desperate hope.

_Don’t say that. Please... I’ve suffered enough._

“I’ve never been in love,” Mizuki continued, dealing the finishing blow. “But you’re a super good friend. So maybe if we start dating, I’ll fall in love with you too. And you’ll be happy.” He extended his hand as if trying to seal a contract. “How about it?”

He couldn’t do it. He shouldn’t say yes. There was no way this would ever end up well. Mizuki would never love him back, no matter how much he himself believed in the opposite. Kimishita would never be good enough for someone like him.

But the hope in his heart told a different story.

Mizuki was here. He was offering him everything he had never even dared to dream of asking, and Kimishita knew that if he rejected this offer, he would doubt and regret his decision for ever.

So he took a deep breath, pushed aside his doubts, and took Mizuki’s hand.

“I... Thank you,” he muttered, feeling too much like an unbidden guest. “I’ll be in your care, Captain.”

\---

Ooshiba didn’t know what kind of strange gut feeling had persuaded him to go outside again, and he wouldn’t question it.

Kimishita had acted weird all day. He had been a nervous wreck, distracted and irritable, and all day his entire focus had been on Mizuki and Mizuki alone. Something was definitely wrong here, and the most irritating part was that Ooshiba had no idea what it was. Had something happened between them? Did he have to punch someone?

He hadn’t left the house and started walking down the streets to Kimishita’s house out of worry. He just wanted to ask him and know what was wrong. Kimishita had known him longer than anyone else on the team, and as old teammates they always knew everything about each other. They didn’t keep secrets. That wasn’t how they worked.

So he turned around the corner of the street where Kimishita lived, just to step into the shop and ask him, when his eyes rested on two figures that made him stop in his tracks.

Kimishita... and Mizuki?

What was Mizuki doing here? He lived in the opposite direction! And why...

Ooshiba stared at them, frozen, watching as Mizuki walked Kimishita up to his door and bid him goodbye, turning to walk back in the direction he had come from as Kimishita disappeared through the door.

Why was his face so red?

And... why had they been holding hands?

But most of all, what was this feeling? This fury, frustration...

Why the hell did he feel so betrayed?


	2. Complicated

The realization burned. It burned like salt in every one of his wounds.

Ooshiba kicked the ball against the wall, watched it bounce and roll back and furiously kicked it again. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe what he had seen. It must have been a bad dream, a hallucination, but the burning, boiling sensation in his veins wouldn’t go away no matter how often he tried to tell himself it wasn’t real.

Kimishita... and Mizuki.

The image of them walking up to Kimishita’s house crossed his mind, holding hands, Kimishita’s face bright red. He shoved it off, slamming the ball against the wall as he whispered a curse. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. How the hell was any of this bullshit even fair?

That goddamn Kimishita. He had been biased from the start. From the very beginning he had always chosen Mizuki over him, in every match, every pass, everything. From the very beginning his eyes had been set on Mizuki and Mizuki alone. Even though Ooshiba had been there first, even though Ooshiba was just as good as Mizuki...

He had lost. He had lost to Mizuki. He had suffered a crushing defeat, and he wasn’t sure who he was more angry at, Mizuki or Kimishita.

Mizuki, for stealing everything important from under his nose, his position as ace, his glory, his attention, his goals and now his midfielder.

Or Kimishita, for completely abandoning him for some bastard who had only started soccer two years ago when the two of them had been playing together since seventh grade.

Mizuki’s victory stung him. But Kimishita’s betrayal burned. It burned into the very core of his soul, seething and hot and frustrating.

With a furious shout he kicked the ball against the wall again. Why should he care? If they had both stabbed him in the back, they didn’t deserve him! They were less than dirt in his eyes! He hated them both. They had earned the hatred of the great, amazing Ooshiba Kiichi! That would make them regret it for sure! But he wouldn’t forgive them that easily. They better grovel and apologize and hope he was in a generous mood!

He was better than them. They were traitorous scum. They weren’t worth his attention.

Maybe if he told himself that often enough, sooner or later it would soothe the stinging, throbbing pain still writhing in his chest.

\---

Kimishita waited until no one was paying attention to him, then he slipped out of the classroom, carefully avoiding the third-year classrooms as he made his way through the hallways, climbed a flight of stairs and finally disappeared onto the school roof.

He peered around, making sure it was empty, then he walked around the corner and sat down with his back against the wall, out of sight from the door. Leaning back his head, he sighed and finally allowed himself to relax. Nobody would find him here. He’d be safe.

It was probably strange, running away from people like that. It was even stranger knowing that he was running away from one person in particular, and that person was the same idiot captain he had started dating yesterday.

Kimishita didn’t know what being in a relationship was supposed to feel like, but he’d have bet his life that this wasn’t it. Being with someone shouldn’t mean so much nervousness and awkwardness and insecurity. Being with someone shouldn’t mean not knowing how to act. Being with someone definitely shouldn’t mean being afraid to be alone with the other to the point of avoiding them as much as possible.

Mizuki had accepted his feelings, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t like the captain actually loved him back. He had only agreed to go out with him out of friendship and pity, and how was Kimishita supposed to act around him now? At practice this morning they had been in public, so he hadn’t needed to think about that yet. At the very least Mizuki hadn’t acted any different than usual this morning. When it came to himself, however, Kimishita wasn’t so sure.

He had tried to hide it. He had tried to act normal, but it hadn’t been easy. Every time Mizuki had looked his way his heartbeat had stumbled, and every time he said his name his face had caught fire on the spot.  _I’m hopelessly in love with Mizuki Hisahito._  That message must have been written all over his face, and if it hadn’t been glaringly obvious before already, it had to be now. The entire team must have caught on.

Kimishita clenched his fists.  _Get a grip._  As long as nobody had given him any odd looks or made any remarks, it was better to assume they didn’t know. He just had to control his feelings better from now on. If he pulled that off he should be fine.

_If_  he pulled that off.

Easy to say when he was currently hiding from the mere possibility that Mizuki might want to seek him out during the break.

He felt pathetic. Pathetic and guilty. Mizuki had been the one who had selflessly offered to go along with his stupid, pointless feelings, and here he was, chickening out and hiding on the goddamn school roof in case Mizuki would take his new role as seriously as he did everything else. Mizuki had agreed to do something no one else would have done for him, and this was his thanks. Curling up by himself and hoping no one would find him until the bell rang.

Pathetic.

But as long as he hadn’t figured things out, he simply didn’t have the courage to act any different. As long as he still didn’t know how to act around Mizuki, just seeing him stressed him out.

Great. This was wrong on so many levels.

Sighing in frustration, he opened his lunch box and reached for his chopsticks, only to lower them again, closing his eyes. He knew he should eat, but he just wasn’t hungry. Maybe later. No, later he wouldn’t have time... Would it really kill him to skip lunch entirely and go to practice on an empty stomach? One time couldn’t be that bad, right?

Unless it really did affect him, and the others got worried...  _Mizuki_  got worried...

He sighed again and put the lunch box away. Fantastic. His mind was going in circles. He should probably force himself to eat... but with the way he was feeling right now, he didn’t think he’d be able to swallow a single bite.

Should he head back down after all? He could make up some story about searching for Mizuki if the captain turned out to have been looking for him. Or maybe Mizuki hadn’t, and then he’d be back in his classroom and not alone with his thoughts.

But if Mizuki really was looking for him, what should he do? Should he make an excuse and disappear on him after leaving him hanging for so long already? Should he spend the rest of the break with Mizuki, nervous and insecure and constantly questioning where his boundaries lay?

No... he really was safer up here. Even if that meant he had to be alone with his thoughts.

_I should really eat. Can’t let food go to waste._

Swallowing his worries, he picked his chopsticks back up, just as footsteps resounded on the stairs and the door flew open with a bang.

Kimishita stopped moving, holding his breath and listening. The footsteps paused at the door, as if whoever had just marched up here in a hurry was looking around for something. Or someone.

He really was glad to have chosen a spot out of sight.

The footsteps resumed, but they didn’t turn back towards the stairs. Instead they stomped closer and closer to the side where Kimishita sat.

Kimishita swallowed, wondering if he could move and get out of here without being seen. He didn’t want to see or hear anyone right now. Especially not on the off chance that... whoever this was could be looking for him.

Then a figure turned around the corner, and Kimishita found himself looking into bright eyes that he knew all too well.

Damn it. How did this guy always,  _always_  know where to find him?

“Kiichi,” he growled impatiently, forcing his voice to sound steady. “What are you doing up here?”

Kiichi’s eyes flashed. He looked like he wanted to snap a furious answer, then he huffed and turned away, crossing his arms. “Nothing.”

_A real brat, as usual._  Kimishita clicked his tongue. “What do you mean, nothing?” he hissed back, getting up to his feat. “Are you telling me you just stormed up the stairs here in a hurry and proceeded to seek me out for no reason at all? I call bullshit! What do you want?”

“I want nothing!” Kiichi yelled back, glaring stubbornly ahead as if he didn’t see Kimishita at all. “And you? What are you doing here, asshole?”

Kimishita flinched slightly. For a split second he wondered if Kiichi had seen straight through him again.

“ _Nothing_ ,” he said sarcastically.

Kiichi’s scowl intensified. “Good.”

Silence fell.

Kimishita wondered if he should say anything, just to drive away this stupid awkward silence. But he didn’t know what to say. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, Kiichi seemed angry at him. Not the kind of angry he became every time Kimishita insulted his plays or work ethic or intelligence, but actually, seriously angry.

“Hey, idiot,” he said at last, glaring up at Kiichi’s furious face. “I’ll ask you one more time. What the fuck did you come here for? Staring at nothing and sulking?”

“I’m not sulking,” Kiichi grumbled, stomping over to the railing and leaning forward to gaze down.

“Not sulking my ass! Then what do you call this?” Kimishita gestured to his whole form. “Throwing a temper tantrum?”

“ _Shut the fuck up!_ ”

Kiichi whipped around to yell at him with an intensity that made him freeze on the spot. His eyes were glowing and bright with frustration and fury. His whole body was trembling with barely-contained rage.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” he bellowed, marching over, grabbing Kimishita’s collar and slamming him hard against the wall. “Are you hiding or what? Don’t fuck with me! Who the fuck are you hiding from, you shithead? Your precious Captain’s out looking for you, so why don’t you go down and join him! That’s what you always fucking want, right? Since he’s  _so_  much more amazing than everybody else!”

He stopped to catch his breath, and Kimishita stared at him, wide-eyed. What was he talking about? What in the world was he talking about? He wasn’t making any sense–

“Shut up!” he barked, roughly shoving Kiichi back to free himself from his grip. “What the fuck do you mean? Do you even hear yourself talking, huh? You’re sounding like a lunatic! Start making sense,  _sense!_ ”

Kiichi clenched his fists. “I am making sense! You’re not making sense!”

_He’s right,_  Kimishita thought bitterly.  _I’m not making any sense today._

“Ah?” he growled, taking a menacing step towards Kiichi. “Whether or not I’m making sense isn’t any of your business! What is wrong with you today? When you’re done throwing nonsensical tantrums, would you  _kindly_  tell me what  _atrocious_  crime I committed that you’re so fucking pissed about, huh?”

“You–”

Kiichi trailed off. He hung his head, furiously staring at the ground, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were white, his face drawn with intense, indescribable pain.

“Never mind.”

Kimishita blinked. “What do you–”

“Never mind! I’m not gonna tell you! Figure it out yourself! Use your head, your head!” Kiichi scowled at him, mock-imitating his voice. “If you’re even gonna remember this and not just forget I’m here too like every other fucking day of my life!”

He spun around and stormed off. The door slammed shut behind him with a bang.

Kimishita stared after him, trying to process what just happened. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t like Kiichi at all. The Kiichi he knew would always straight-up tell him what was going on, especially when it was something that made him angry. But being all vague and cryptic and storming off without a proper explanation? What in the world was all that about?

He tried to brush it off. He tried to tell himself that Kiichi was dramatic by nature, dramatic and awfully short-tempered and equipped with the unique tendency to get angry over the tiniest things. Maybe Kimishita had made some microscopically tiny mistake that had set him off and not even realized it, and by this time tomorrow they’d be back to normal already. It had happened before.

Except... this time felt different. This time Kiichi hadn’t seemed irritated or offended or even upset. He had seemed hurt, furious, almost...  _betrayed_. This wasn’t just a temporary explosion of his temper. This time he had seemed truly angry, and this wasn’t the kind of anger that would simply fade with time.

Had Kimishita done something wrong?

But what? He hadn’t treated Kiichi any differently the past few days. He hadn’t done anything different lately, unless–

_Your precious Captain’s out looking for you, so why don’t you go down and join him! That’s what you always fucking want, right?_

Did Kiichi  _know_...?

No. No way, impossible. Nobody on the team knew. Kimishita hadn’t told anyone, and Mizuki had promised him to keep silent about it too. And it wasn’t like anybody could have seen them together; they hadn’t acted any different at practice, and they hadn’t started holding hands until the school was well out of sight yesterday. Kiichi had no way of knowing.

And even if he did know, it wasn’t like it would affect him that much... right?

Of course not. After all, Kiichi only cared about being number one on the soccer field. It wasn’t like he could possibly see Mizuki as a rival for Kimishita’s attention too. Kimishita only mattered to him as the one who sent passes, did his thinking and helped him become the ace.

Sighing quietly, Kimishita gathered up his lunch and chopsticks and slowly made his way back towards the stairs. Kiichi had said that Mizuki was looking for him. Maybe it was better to go back down and meet him, at least briefly. The break was almost over anyway.

\---

Ooshiba ran through the school building, across the yard, and collapsed on the ground behind the gym. His whole body was still pounding. His mind was a swirl of emotions. Fury. Anger. Betrayal. Frustration. Disappointment. Anger at Kimishita, Mizuki... and himself. Especially himself.

He didn’t know why he had rushed up there and looked for Kimishita. Maybe he had wanted to triumph over Mizuki by finding him when the captain couldn’t, or maybe he had been worried about his completely uncharacteristic disappearance. Maybe he had just wanted to see him. But he definitely hadn’t wanted to get angry and yell at him and start another fight.

It was just... He couldn’t help it. As soon as he saw Kimishita’s face the fury and betrayal had overwhelmed him, and all his bitterness and hatred had washed over him and made him act on instinct. Even now the thought of Kimishita’s face still made him want to strangle the bastard. What was with him, looking all unapologetic and not having the slightest idea what he could have done wrong? Wasn’t he supposed to be the smart one? Was he pretending not to get it on purpose or what? It had to be glaringly obvious!

He hated Kimishita. He hated him. He hated him. All those years of playing together, and now that bastard just went and ditched him for some stupid new face and wasn’t even sorry. Why had Ooshiba ever cared about him? That guy didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything. Ooshiba was too good for him. He’d find himself another midfielder, someone better, and wait for the first chance to mock him. And Kimishita would regret it, but then it would be too late. Ooshiba would never accept his apology no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

That was right. That was what he should do. He should just forget about him. Kimishita didn’t deserve anything better.

And yet, when he thought about playing soccer without him, about separating ways and parting for good, he felt... he felt... Damn it, what was this feeling? Why was his chest constricting– what was–

_Lonely_.

That was the word.

When he thought about going on without Kimishita, he felt so damn lonely.

\---

“Oh, there you are.”

Kimishita stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a crash with Mizuki, who had suddenly appeared around the corner, surprised and startled and uncomfortably close. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Kimishita avoided his eyes, those dark, intense brown eyes he had always wanted to look at him and him alone. “I’m sorry,” he muttered off to the side. “Something... came up. If I’d known you were looking for me I’d have said something, Captain.”

Mizuki tilted his head. “What happened?”

“Nothing you’d understand,” Kimishita snapped, still avoiding his gaze as he pushed past him and started marching down the hallway, Mizuki falling into stride next to him. “I took care of it now, anyway.”

“Good.” Mizuki gave him a thumbs-up as they walked. “Let’s eat lunch together, Kimishita.”

Kimishita threw a glance at the lunch box in the captain’s hand, which looked like it had been opened and closed more than once today. “You already ate,” he remarked.

“I was hungry,” Mizuki replied, as if that explained everything. “But I saved up some to eat with you.”

Kimishita’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch.

“You shouldn’t have,” he grumbled, clutching his own lunch tighter. “If you’re hungry, just eat everything! Don’t wait for me–”

“It tastes better when you’re with someone you like.”

Kimishita forgot to walk.

“That’s what my grandfather used to say,” Mizuki continued, and Kimishita’s heart started beating again. “And he was always right.”

Kimishita nodded, the spark of hope that had kindled in his heart flickering out and dying. “I see,” he muttered, trying not to let his disappointment show. “Old people say that kind of stuff, huh.”

_Idiot!_  he snapped at himself in his mind.  _What did you get your hopes up for? You should know it never leads anywhere!_

They sat down in the cafeteria, which was half-empty again by now. Most people had already returned to their classrooms. Mizuki instantly opened his lunch and started to gobble down what was left of his food when he caught sight of Kimishita’s and stopped in his tracks.

“You haven’t eaten yet,” he said around a mouthful of rice.

Kimishita scowled and blushed, feeling caught. “You don’t say.”

“That’s not good,” Mizuki continued, a serious frown on his face. “You need to eat. If you don’t eat you’ll get sick. That’d be bad.”

Kimishita didn’t look at him. His heart gave another lurch. Damn it, why was Mizuki so kind and caring? It was getting his hopes up. It was getting his damn hopes up every single time.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, picking up his chopsticks and shoving a bite into his mouth. “It’s not like I’ll starve.”

He still wasn’t hungry. But Mizuki was watching him, so he continued to stuff his entire lunch into his mouth, bite by bite, until not a single grain of rice was left.

“There, I ate,” he grumbled. “Happy now?”

Mizuki gave a thumbs-up, and Kimishita wanted to hide in the ground and disappear. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said quietly, still not looking Mizuki in the eyes. “I’m not a kid!”

“I thought couples worry about each other.”

“You...” Kimishita clenched his teeth, swallowing down the cold feeling that was starting to spread on the inside. “Don’t just worry about me because of that! I’m telling you–”

_Don’t feel obligated to do so much for me! I’m not worth it!_

He couldn’t say that out loud.

Mizuki shook his head, reaching across the table and placing a steady hand on Kimishita’s shoulder. “I care about you,” he said matter-of-factly. “That’s why I worry about you.”

Kimishita’s heart gave another jump, but the rest of him felt dead inside. No matter how happy Mizuki’s words made him, every time he said something nice like this Kimishita couldn’t help feeling that it might have been better if he didn’t care at all.


	3. Confusion

“You’ve been looking out of it lately.”

Kimishita stirred, slowly pushing back his thoughts and looking up from his dinner plate, which he had barely touched. His father’s eyes rested on him, dark and concerned, and for a moment Kimishita felt a pang of guilt for not concealing his emotions enough and making his father worry over his stupid teenage soap opera feelings.

“I’m fine,” he said coolly, not looking into his father’s eyes. “I’m not out of it. Just tired.”

His father frowned. “Are you sure? You haven’t been eating well.” He pointed to Kimishita’s plate, which was slowly getting cold under his nose. “You don’t lose your appetite if everything’s all right... Not getting sick now, are we, son?”

_Maybe I am, but not the kind of sick you think._  Heaving a sigh, Kimishita picked up his chopsticks and tried to force a few bites down his throat, just to get his father to stop worrying. Damn it, he really wasn’t hungry. Not even full, just really not hungry, as if he suddenly didn’t need to eat to survive anymore.

“I’m not getting sick,” he grumbled irritatedly, forcing himself to swallow a mouthful of food, barely registering the taste. “Just tired. Been stressful these past few days.”  _Not really a lie._

“Stressful?” His father’s eyes turned curious and compassionate. “How so?”

Now this question hit painfully close to home. What should he reply to that?

Kimishita clicked his tongue, irritated at his father’s question and irritated at himself for being unable to answer. “Nothing special!” he snapped. “It’ll go by! I’ll be fine!”

“Really?” His father seemed unconvinced. “You know, if you want to talk about it I’m always–”

“I said it’s nothing special! What is this, an interview?” Jumping to his feet, Kimishita pushed back his chair and placed his half-empty plate down next to the sink. “Thanks for the food. I’ll be in my room.”

And before his father could say anything in response, he hurried out of the kitchen and into his room, slamming the door behind him and collapsing on the bed without even bothering to switch on the light.

He should probably apologize to his father later, he thought with a pang of guilt. His old man didn’t deserve to be snapped at, it wasn’t his fault that Kimishita was such a mess. But all that could wait. Before he could speak to anyone normally, first of all he had to calm down himself.

Silence engulfed him. Kimishita closed his eyes and took delight in the quiet solitude, the sense of safety that came with being alone. His mind, stressed out and exhausted to the point of irritation, started to relax, glad that he didn’t have to speak to anyone or answer any questions for the time being and could just be by himself for the moment, alone and unobserved.

How he had longed for this all day. How he had needed this.

At long last he didn’t have to worry about how he looked to anyone. At long last he didn’t have to worry about anyone walking in and seeing his face and knowing what was going on in his mind. As long as he was alone, nobody would ever know what he was feeling, and the attempt at a calm, unfazed façade that he had struggled so hard to keep up all day fell off its hinges and crumbled to pieces. He was safe here. Nobody to judge him, no rules and manners to adhere to except his own. He could let down his guard...

His throat tightened. A knot tied itself in his chest, thick and heavy as if it was made out of stone. His body was trembling. His mind was numb and racing at the same time.

He never wanted to go through another day like this, ever. But if he got up tomorrow, he knew he would.

This pretend relationship was wearing him out to the bone. As soon as Mizuki was involved, he had no control over his feelings anymore. His heart betrayed him and started doing whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted. He was constantly unsure how to act, constantly afraid that others would find out about his hopeless feelings, constantly afraid what Mizuki might think of him. Attraction, worry, sadness, fear, hope, frustration, anger, gratitude and guilt chased each other round and round and round and round in his head until they all blurred together and he couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

This was draining. This was terrifying. This was nothing like he had imagined his first relationship to be, and yet somehow it was still the best he’d ever had.

Mizuki had agreed to go out with him. Mizuki had agreed to do that for him even though he didn’t return his feelings, just because he cared about him so much. It didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t have to mean that Mizuki would ever like him back just like he said he might, but it still meant he mattered to Mizuki. He was important to him, and honestly, that was all he could ask for.

He didn’t deserve this guy.

Mizuki, who was so kind, so selfless and good-natured and loyal. Mizuki, who was powerful and hardworking and dedicated and constantly seeking to improve himself even more because he loved soccer so much. Mizuki, who was strange and embarrassing and eccentric and had his head in the clouds and a big, caring heart that had always been in exactly the right spot.

Mizuki... bright, fiery, stupid, kind-hearted Mizuki...

Kimishita rolled over, burying his head in the pillow. His chest ached. The room that had once seemed so quiet and comforting now felt cold and empty. The silence weighed down on his back, his shoulders, crushing the air out of his lungs like a dark, cold, heavy mass.

All day he had been busy staying out of Mizuki’s way, avoiding him, trying to act like nothing had happened between them. But now, now that he was finally alone like he had wanted to be all day, he missed him.

He wished Mizuki was here. Here in this room with him, sitting at his desk and quietly keeping him company, or kneeling at the side of the bed and gently patting his back like he sometimes did after scoring a goal together. He could really use one of those pats right now. Or a hug. He really wished Mizuki was here, sitting next to him and pulling him into one of his warm, firm, reassuring hugs, the kind that allowed Kimishita to bury his face in his shoulder and cling to him until he didn’t feel like a shaky, helpless wreck.

Except... even if Mizuki was here, this wouldn’t happen. Even if he was offered a hug, Kimishita would probably decline because asking for affection would only make him feel even worse. He was asking enough from Mizuki as things were.

How much he himself needed them didn’t matter.

Heaving a quiet sigh, Kimishita closed his eyes and wondered why there couldn’t be a way to turn off his feelings.

\---

Ooshiba had been watching them since yesterday, and by now he couldn’t be any more confused.

Kimishita and Mizuki were a thing. That much he was sure of, or at least thought he was. They had held hands and walked home together, and Kimishita’s face had been red enough to erase any doubts. No, they definitely had to be a thing, or at least thing enough to do couple-y things like hold hands when walking home from school.

That was what he’d thought, anyway. But by now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Ever since yesterday morning, Kimishita had been acting strange. Out of it. That alone would have seemed normal enough, Ooshiba was pretty sure the same thing would happen to him if he got into a relationship; but he hadn’t just been spaced out or up in the clouds. The way he was acting was weird, and Ooshiba couldn’t explain it at all.

Kimishita had become nervous. Jumpy, anxious even. Whenever Mizuki approached him at practice he went strangely tense and stiff, his eyes flitting all over the place when they spoke, his hands fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves. Every time the captain glanced his way he quickly glanced down and stared at his shoelaces. Every time they accidentally made physical contact he flinched and backed away, hurrying to put as much distance between them as possible. And then there was... whatever he had been doing on the roof when Mizuki had been looking for him during lunch break yesterday.

If he didn’t know better, Ooshiba would think Kimishita had suddenly become  _afraid_  of Mizuki.

No way, that couldn’t be right. Kimishita wouldn’t suddenly become scared of his teammate, that wasn’t like him. Kimishita wasn’t that kind of person. Kimishita was brave, smart and strong and not easily afraid of people. Especially not of people he had always seemed to like.

He couldn’t be afraid. But he was still acting weird, not at all how someone in a relationship should be acting. If they really were dating, he should be happy, right? On cloud nine... and yet he was like this. He seemed stressed out, nervous... unhappy. More unhappy than Ooshiba had ever seen him before, in all the years of knowing him.

Something was definitely wrong.

Something was fishy here, and he didn’t know what. But he could find out. And find out he would, because if that bastard Mizuki had done anything weird to his midfielder, he would personally break his neck.

He knew it. This all had to be Mizuki’s fault. He should be angry at him and not Kimishita. Kimishita had to be defended from that asshole. Just because he was Mr. Perfect Ace and everybody loved him didn’t mean he could get away with hurting Kimishita on Ooshiba’s watch.

At least that was what he told himself. That was the only answer he allowed into his mind, because the thought that Kimishita might simply have chosen Mizuki over him had already hurt him enough.

\---

Kimishita wasn’t going to run away again, but he was still dreading lunch break a little. He knew it was silly, silly and stupid, but part of him couldn’t help hoping that Mizuki would forget that couples were supposed to eat lunch together and not come looking for him again. Part of him was hoping that he could eat by himself, without the pressure of interacting with Mizuki or the nervousness that his presence invariably brought.

The other part, though, was scolding himself for being such a cowardly bundle of raw nerves. Mizuki was seeking him out. Mizuki was giving him more attention than he ever had in almost two years of pining, and even if it wasn’t what he had secretly yearned for, the desperate, lovesick part of him still wanted to savor every second, every precious moment as much as he could. He wanted to see Mizuki. He was dreading to see him. But he still wanted to see him.

_Ah, what a pain. Make up your mind already, stupid! What are you, a kid?_

The bell rang, and at once loud voices and noises filled the classroom, even as the teacher struggled to keep the class’ attention for another minute to tell them about their homework. Kimishita stared numbly at the notebook in his hands. His insides had twisted into a cold, anxious knot.

All around him people started hurrying around the room, some of them grouping together at their friends’ desks, others racing towards the cafeteria to be the first in line. Kimishita didn’t budge. He had no idea where he should go to, anyway.

“–shita? Kimishita!”

He snapped out of his thoughts, his heart skipping a beat. Then his brain started processing his surroundings, and he relaxed. The voice talking to him hadn’t been Mizuki’s; it was Suzuki who was standing in front of his desk, a look of mild concern on his face.

“Suzuki,” he said awkwardly. “What... do you want?”

Suzuki picked up his lunch box and held it under Kimishita’s nose. “I’m eating lunch with Satou today,” he replied. “Do you want to join us?”

Eat lunch with Satou and Suzuki. It sounded tempting, a perfect excuse. If he agreed, he wouldn’t have to eat with Mizuki, and since they had asked him first nobody could even accuse him of running away. And all he’d have to do was say yes.

But... Satou... lunch... wait a minute...

He frowned, straightening up in his chair. “What about Kiichi?”

“Shiba said he had something to do.” Suzuki shrugged slightly. “He wouldn’t tell us what it is, but don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone.” He smiled. “So, are you joining us?”

If he said yes, he wouldn’t have to spend time with Mizuki.

But if he said yes, he wouldn’t be able to spend time with him either.

Kimishita thought of Mizuki’s dark, intense eyes focused on him. He thought of his firm, determined shoulder pats and his blunt, caring remarks and his bright, dazzling smile. Then he swallowed, pushed aside his fears and shook his head with a sigh. “I think I’ll pass on this one.”

“Alright, see you later.” Suzuki nodded and turned to leave. “If you change your mind, we’ll be down in the cafeteria.”

The door slid shut behind him, and Kimishita was left alone at his desk, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest. He had made his decision. Now all he could do was wait.

The minutes drew on, quiet and painfully slow. Nothing seemed to happen. The small groups around the other desks had disappeared. Nobody opened the door. No footsteps even approached it from outside.

How long had Kimishita been sitting here? Five minutes... no, that had to be wrong. It felt more like five hours, five long hours of staring at nothing and listening to any noise from outside and his nervous, frantic heartbeat.

Was Mizuki not coming today after all? Had he forgotten, or thought it wasn’t necessary every day? And if he really wasn’t going to show up, should Kimishita feel glad or disappointed?

Maybe he was lost. Or maybe he was sitting in his own classroom, waiting for Kimishita and wondering where he was. No, most likely not. But still... Should Kimishita seek him out?

No. No way. Nothing good could come from that. He might be imposing. He might be overstepping his boundaries. It was still Mizuki who had decided to go along with his stupid feelings, and it should be Mizuki’s decision when he needed some space. If Kimishita still tried to seek him out when he didn’t want to, Mizuki might feel obligated to spend time with him even though he actually didn’t want him around for the moment. He was that kind of person, after all.

Maybe he should text him...?

No, that would seem desperate. It had only been five minutes... six now...

_What should he do–_

There was a loud bang from the hallway. Footsteps stormed towards the classroom, and then the door slammed open, revealing a figure he knew all too well.

But it wasn’t Mizuki.

“Kiichi,” Kimishita exclaimed, turning around to stand up. “What are you–”

Kiichi didn’t say a word. He simply marched over to his desk, grabbing a chair from the one in front of it and plopping down with his arms crossed, glaring furiously at the door.

“Kiichi,” Kimishita said again, narrowing his eyes as he glared up at him. “What the fuck is the meaning of this?”

Kiichi said nothing. He didn’t even spare him a glance.

Kimishita stood up. “Kiichi, answer me!” he snapped, reaching out to grab Kiichi’s shirt, but Kiichi leaned to the side and out of his reach. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?”

“Nothing!”

Kimishita groaned inwardly. This was starting to feel a suspicious lot like the roof yesterday, and he did  _not_  want a repetition of that. “You,” he growled, clicking his tongue. “Why do you march in here like you own the place, grab a chair and sit here like a kid throwing a tantrum only to tell me it’s nothing? We talked about this, idiot! If you have a problem then tell me!”

Kiichi scowled, still glaring at the door like he hadn’t heard a single word. Then his lips started to form a light pout, and his gaze started to waver. Finally he gave a huff and grumbled something unintelligible.

Kimishita narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Is he... blackmailing you?”

Kimishita gaped down at him, confusion and annoyance mixing into his anger. He wasn’t sure if he should be puzzled at such a cryptic question or just furious at Kiichi for being unable to ever explain what the hell he was talking about.

“Wha–” he stuttered, wide-eyed and taken aback. “What the– Who are you talking about, idiot?”

Kiichi ignored the question. He stood up, turned around and grabbed Kimishita’s collar without warning, slamming their foreheads together to stare straight into his eyes. “Did he hypnotize you?” he asked urgently. “He did something weird to you, right? That fucker...”

Kimishita struggled against his grip. “Kiichi, who the fuck are you talking about? Learn to use words and explain yourself!”

“Nobody!”

“What do you mean, nobody? Don’t ask these ominous questions if you’re talking about nobody! What kind of nonsense did your underdeveloped brain come up with this time, idiot?”

“You–”

Kiichi stopped short. Making a frustrated noise, he let go of Kimishita’s shirt and sat back down, still glaring at the door.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbled again, quieter and almost discouraged. “Use your head, asshole!”

Kimishita didn’t understand a single thing.

What the hell was wrong with Kiichi? Why had he suddenly stopped making sense yesterday? What in the world had happened to turn him into a cryptic, vague sulky brat?

Kimishita really wished he’d act like himself again and just say what was wrong. This strange behavior was getting on his last nerve, and his nerves were already strained enough as things were.

What was wrong with him? And why now? Now that Kimishita’s world was already out of its angles, couldn’t at least Kiichi remain a constant that didn’t confuse him or make him question things?

_Now of all times, when I could use some support..._

He kicked that thought out of his head. Kiichi wouldn’t support him; he probably wouldn’t even get it. He had always hated Mizuki, and if he learned what had happened, he would probably hate him even more. Not that Kimishita would have planned on telling him anyways.

The door opened, bringing him back to reality. Stepping into the room was Mizuki, at long last, looking a little disheveled and out of breath, as if he had sprinted the entire way here. Kimishita felt a pang of guilt. Had the captain waited for him inside his own classroom until he realized he wasn’t coming and hurried out himself? Should he have gone looking for him after all?

Then his gaze fell on Mizuki’s hand, and things started to make sense again. The captain was holding two pieces of melon bread from the cafeteria. So that was why he’d been late... he had probably waited in line. His tardiness had nothing to do with Kimishita.

Giving him a friendly nod, Mizuki made his way over to Kimishita’s desk, reaching for the nearest free chair and pulling it over to sit next to him. It was cramped, and they were close, so close their elbows were brushing together and Kimishita could feel the heat radiating from Mizuki’s body on his skin. His mouth felt strangely dry. So close... so close that if he just had the courage, he could lean over, rest his head on Mizuki’s side and–

No. He couldn’t do that, they were in public. Truthfully he wouldn’t even do that if they were alone.

But it was so frustrating... feeling him so close... being unable to get closer...

Kiichi had turned around in his chair. He was no longer glaring at the door; instead his eyes were fixed on Mizuki, furious and full of burning hatred.

He hadn’t come here because of Mizuki, had he? But then those questions...

Had they been about Mizuki? And if they had, what exactly did that mean?

Mizuki himself didn’t seem to notice any of Kiichi’s glares or Kimishita’s doubts. He simply placed down the two pieces of melon bread on the desk, pushing one towards Kimishita. “Here.”

Kimishita felt his face heating up and cursed himself for his weakness. “Wha– For me?”

Mizuki nodded. “Sugar gives you energy,” he said with a thumbs-up. “You need that. You look tired.”

He had noticed? Kimishita swallowed, desperately wishing for a mirror. Did he really look that bad or was Mizuki just strangely attentive?

“Th– Thank you,” he muttered, ripping open the wrapper and taking out the melon bread. “You shouldn’t have... I’ll repay you...”

Mizuki shook his head vigorously, unwrapping his own melon bread. “It’s for the team, too.”

He had nothing to say against that.

Kimishita gave a quiet sigh and took a bite from his melon bread. It was sweet and soft, a little too sweet perhaps, and a little moist from staying inside the plastic wrapper for too long. It tasted cheap but still somehow delicious in its simplicity, and for a moment Kimishita closed his eyes, calming down as he thought of nothing but the food in his hands.

Kiichi was still glaring at Mizuki, looking more furious than ever.

Mizuki seemed to have noticed at last, because he glanced up, tilting his head questioningly. Then he held up his own melon bread. “Oh, do you want some too, Ooshiba? You can have mine.”

Kiichi slammed his fist down on the desk with a furious huff. “Like hell I want some shitty melon bread!”

Mizuki turned to Kimishita in confusion. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Beats me.” Kimishita swallowed his mouthful of melon bread, then he stood up, grabbing Kiichi’s collar and pulling him to his feet. “Hey, idiot,” he snapped. “What are you sitting around here throwing tantrums for, huh? If you want something, then say it and leave us alone!”

Kiichi blinked in surprise, then he scowled at him, grabbing Kimishita’s blazer with both hands. “Shut up!” he yelled back. “I don’t want nothing! You look like you want something, but looks like you’re too fucking chicken to do shit about it!”

“Huh?” Kimishita gritted his teeth, forcing his mind not to ask a million frantic questions as he glared up into Kiichi’s eyes. “Who are you calling a chicken, imbecile? If you can’t even tell me what’s going on, then who’s the chicken here, huh?”

“Oh yeah? Shut the fuck up!” Tearing himself free, Kiichi whipped around and started marching towards the door. “At least I tell people when I’m not happy with them and don’t just keep putting up with their shit, you stupid fucking pussy!”

The door slammed shut. Kimishita stared after him, startled and confused and angry at once.

Then Mizuki tilted his head into his field of vision, and Kimishita stumbled back. Mizuki looked just as confused as he felt. “What was he talking about?”

Kimishita took another step back. His mind was suddenly filled with frantic premonitions. “I... don’t know.”

“Is there anyone you’re not happy with?” Mizuki got up, grasping his hand. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Kimishita turned away. His hand was too warm. His face was burning. His insides were burning too, with guilt and shame at telling an obvious lie. There was so much he wanted– no, needed to talk about. But he wouldn’t.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing.”

“Okay.”

Mizuki’s brown eyes softened. “If something comes up, tell me. I’m here.”

_Stop being so damn nice, idiot._

A lump formed in Kimishita’s throat. His eyes stung. Suddenly he felt weak again, helpless, like a child who had just been found by his guardian after losing his way in the woods.

Pulling away his hand, he sat down, trying to swallow the lump in his throat and failing. “I’ll think about it,” he grumbled. “But... thank you, Captain.”

Mizuki gently ruffled his hair and pulled him closer without saying a word.

Kimishita tensed up. Was this real? Was this happening? This couldn’t be– what was–

He was getting affection... from Mizuki...

Part of him was screaming at him to back away, but he shut it down. He needed this. Badly. And Mizuki was offering it to him.

Swallowing again, he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as Mizuki’s warm hand carded through his hair, cupping the back of his head for a moment before finally letting go, leaving him both indescribably happy and wishing for more.

\---

Ooshiba didn’t know what he had expected when he had come back and peered through the door again, but it wasn’t this.

Mizuki was ruffling Kimishita’s hair, patting and caressing his head with gentle affection. And Kimishita seemed to be  _enjoying_  it. His eyes were closed, a blush on his cheeks as pressed his head into the touch like a cat getting its ears scratched.

For the first time in days, Kimishita looked  _happy_.

And Ooshiba didn’t know what to make of it.


	4. Lonely

Mizuki returned to his classroom feeling relaxed, even relieved. Today had gone well so far, better than yesterday at any rate, and he was glad to seem to have done something right at last.

Truth be told, he didn’t know how relationships worked. He didn’t even know how romance worked at all; he had never been in love, and unless other people brought it up he tended to forget it was perfectly normal for almost everyone else entirely. He only had a very vague idea of what Kimishita was feeling for him right now, loosely pieced together from observations and things he had heard from others over the years, friends or teammates or relatives. The whole concept was still confusing to him, and sometimes he caught himself wondering if he’d ever understand it at all.

But he had to. Kimishita needed him to, and his grandfather had always said that true friends would help each other in need. Kimishita seemed to be in need right now, and Mizuki was his friend, so he had to figure this out, for his friend’s and teammate’s sake. Somehow. Even if it was confusing.

Honestly, he had no idea how he’d been doing so far. What did being a couple even mean, exactly? He vaguely knew that lovers were something like very good friends, except closer, probably, and somehow... belonging to each other more? He couldn’t think of a better word. The only other thing he knew about couples was that they did things together and were affectionate around each other, usually, although he wasn’t sure how far that reached or where exactly friendly affection stopped and couple affection started. What was he supposed to do to act like a normal boyfriend? What did Kimishita expect from him?

He wasn’t sure. All he had done so far had been two parts guesswork and one part observation of people who had a girlfriend, although he wasn’t even sure if girlfriends and boyfriends were supposed to be treated the same way. All he could do was try and see, especially since Kimishita seemed so unwilling to tell him what he wanted.

Why was he even so unwilling, anyway? Was that also a couple thing? Maybe. But then again... if lovers were like very good friends, shouldn’t they act like good friends and tell each other things? Weird... Maybe he should ask someone who knew. Inohara or Haibara, or maybe Usui. They understood those things better than he did.

For the moment Mizuki would just keep acting like a close friend and give Kimishita affection when he looked like he needed it and hope to understand more. It had worked today, so maybe if he kept doing that, they might actually make some progress.

That sounded like the nicest thing to do. Even if he still didn’t get this whole romance deal.

\---

The world felt warmer now. It was only a degree or two, and it was probably Kimishita’s imagination, but ever since lunch break the air around him seemed to have warmed up a little, the colors of the world looking just a little brighter.

Truth be told, Kimishita didn’t know how to feel. Every time he closed his eyes Mizuki’s face appeared in his mind, kind brown eyes meeting with his own, and he could feel the warm hand raking through his hair once more as if it was still there, gentle and reassuring in ways he couldn’t understand. He hadn’t asked for this. Mizuki had done it of his own accord... because  _he_  wanted to?

Against his will hope had flickered up in his chest, a small twinkle of happiness amid all the fears and confusion and insecurity, the thought that maybe he did stand a chance, maybe it wasn’t so hopeless after all. That maybe Mizuki was right and his feelings actually could be returned someday and his suggestion to go out with him hadn’t stemmed from friendship and pity alone. Maybe... he could be loved back.

Maybe he was worthy, after all.

Kimishita knew he should be careful. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking that, and yet he couldn’t stop the hope, the faint joy in his heart, the feeling of warmth and gratitude. Perhaps his self-esteem had been lying all along. He had always thought that he wasn’t good enough for Mizuki, could never be, not as a player and especially not as a person. But if he was wrong, after all... if Mizuki disagreed...

After all, would Mizuki really have agreed to go out with anyone on the team if they’d asked? Would he really have looked at anyone the way he did earlier? Could he really have been so affectionate with just anyone, or was Kimishita special after all?

He couldn’t say. But right now it didn’t seem as impossible as it had before, and that was enough.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he packed up his books and stuffed them into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and walking to his locker to get his jersey and cleats. Practice didn’t seem quite as scary as it had been the past few days. On the contrary... he was actually looking forward to seeing Mizuki today.

\---

“Nice pass.”

Mizuki’s words were as simple as the hand patting his shoulder in approval, but Kimishita still couldn’t help the proud smirk spreading over his face as he turned, meeting Mizuki’s eyes. “I’ll send a better one next time, Captain.”

Mizuki smiled back slightly, and Kimishita felt like he could move a mountain. He finally felt in his element. Maybe it was just stupidly exaggerated hope, but right now it almost seemed like he and Mizuki really did share something special, like they were a real couple with a real bond, finally more than friends. It was like after endless back and forth they had finally clicked, and Kimishita was going to ride on the wave of that feeling for as long as he could.

Turning away from the captain, he took off and sped back to his position, his feet light, his eyes taking in the field around him like a chessboard as he moved the players like pawns in his mind. From over there the ball would likely go to Hayase, with the way they stood now... then probably Kazama if they tried to go on the offense, which they should, being a goal behind... Kazama would be met by Mizuki or Kiichi, get stopped if it was Mizuki, likely get past Kiichi, run into Haibara or Usui... they’d have to be careful not to let it get out there... Tsukamoto should probably head back, in case they needed to catch the rebound... and from there on he should–

Right. He had it.

Hayase got hold of the ball and started dribbling. Kazama sprinted up on his right, overtaking him and smoothly catching the ball with his foot as Hayase passed to him across the field. The forwards and Kimishita started moving as one. Kimishita went through everyone’s possible motions in his mind, registering all weak spots in the defense, all possible escape routes. Kazama was going this way– no, that was a feint, he’d seen it before–  _that_  way it was!

Wait. It wasn’t a feint?

Whispering a curse, Kimishita spun around and chased after Kazama. Damn it, that sly bastard. He had known the others would think he was feinting and made use of that, hadn’t he? This brat just kept on improving... Good thing in official matches, when they were on the same side. Bad thing now that they were playing against each other.

Suzuki caught up with Kazama. Kazama passed back to Hayase. Kokubo. Kazama again. Intercepted by Usui– Haibara–  _out of bounds–_

No, not yet. A small figure emerged from the crowd behind, darting across the pitch and throwing itself into the way of the ball, hitting it back onto the field with its head, and rolling over several times before finally crashing and coming to lie face-down on the ground.

“Tsukushi!” Kazama called, forgetting about the ball as he chased after his friend, kneeling down next to him with worry clouding his face. “You okay there, Tsukushi?”

Tsukamoto groaned and raised his head, looking dazed and a little disoriented, then he clumsily tried to scramble back to his feet. “I’m... fine,” he said unconvincingly as he staggered and nearly fell down onto the ground again. “Don’t worry... this is nothing at all! Give me a second... um...”

“Idiot!” Kimishita snapped, marching across the field to stand beside the first-year, glaring down at him with irritation. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop pulling stupid stunts like this in practice matches, huh? It’s like you’re asking to get fucking injured!”

Tsukamoto shrank back, trying to bow his head and immediately wincing with pain. “Sorry!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue and scowled at him in silent disapproval. Kazama seemed to have noticed the wince too, because he leaned down, trying to get a better look at Tsukamoto’s face. “Hey, Tsukushi,” he said gently. “Tsukushi, look at me. Does it hurt anywhere? Need somebody to patch you up?”

“N-Not at all!” Tsukamoto tried to shake his head and winced again. “I’m perfectly fine! Please don’t worry about me, I can keep playi–”

“Tsukamoto.”

Mizuki stepped around Kimishita and Kazama, sitting down next to Tsukamoto and firmly grasping his face in both hands, staring intensely at his forehead and eyes. “Look at me.”

Tsukamoto tried to squirm but failed to free himself as he found his face squished in Mizuki’s iron grip.

Giving a brief nod of acknowledgement, Mizuki leaned even further down to rake Tsukamoto’s bangs out of his face, revealing a large red bruise forming where his head had hit the ground. Tsukamoto winced and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “This is less bad than it looks...” Mizuki frowned, shook his head, and poked the bruise with his finger.

Tsukamoto gave a small yelp of pain. Kazama jumped to his side, pulling Mizuki’s hand away before he could poke the bruise again.

“You’re hurt,” Mizuki remarked, letting go of Tsukamoto’s face and standing up. “That’s no good. You need to get that treated.” He turned around. “Ubukata!”

“I’m onto it,” the manager shouted back, marching across the pitch with a first-aid kit and a roll of her eyes. “For crying out loud, Tsukamoto! When will you finally start being more careful? We’re almost out of band-aids because of you!”

Tsukamoto squeezed his eyes shut, visibly shrinking as Kazama pulled him back to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Ubukata-san... Everyone, I’m very sorry for the trouble! I’ll try to take care... I shouldn’t have...”

“You did fine.”

Mizuki was beside Tsukamoto again in a heartbeat. With a soft smile he met the injured first-year’s gaze, a look of warm, friendly affection in his dark eyes. “You just saved the ball,” he said, reaching over to gently ruffle Tsukamoto’s hair. “Good job.”

Tsukamoto smiled and blushed, muttered a thanks, and stumbled off the field accompanied by Kazama and Ubukata.

Kimishita stared blankly after them. He felt like he had been punched in the chest.

The brief moment of Mizuki ruffling Tsukamoto’s hair replayed in his head in slow motion, every detail burned into his mind with a piercing cold pain. The hair-ruffling... the affection... How had he ever managed to think that this was anything special? Why had he ever been happy about that? That was just Mizuki. The gesture didn’t carry any special meaning when it was from him. And his expression...

The look Mizuki had given Tsukamoto just now...

Kimishita gritted his teeth. He knew that face. He knew that look in Mizuki’s eyes. It was the exact same look he had given him earlier, the same look that had sparked so much hope in his chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid hope.

He should have known. He wasn’t special. To Mizuki he was just another teammate, just another friend. They were only together because Kimishita happened to be the first person on the team who had confessed to him. If anyone else had been faster, if anyone else had beat him to it, Mizuki might be doing the same things for them now.

Kimishita had never stood more of a chance than the others. He had simply been in the right place at the right time, the first to work up his courage before anyone else did.

The world felt icy cold again. The realization rested heavy on his shoulders, slowly crushing the air from his lungs. His previous hope and happiness felt naïve now, embarrassing, blind. Like a clueless child who had ignored all the signs to bask in his own happy delusion. What had he been thinking? Had he truly believed that Mizuki could ever see him as more than a teammate and friend, that he could be going out with him out of more than displaced pity?

Stupid. Pathetic. Ridiculous.

Just like this entire dating charade.

And yet, if he broke it off now, he knew he would always wonder what would have happened if he had just kept hoping a little longer.

Kimishita swallowed hard.  _Not right now,_  he told himself. He was still in the middle of practice. No time to be distracted by his own overdramatic soap opera feelings.

Clenching his fists and forcing on a stoic poker face, he turned and made his way back to his current position as Coach Nakazawa blew the whistle to resume the game. But he was still so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the way Kiichi continued to look at him as if he was hiding a stab wound himself.

\---

Ooshiba staggered back as though he had walked into an invisible door, slowly inching away from the classroom entrance.

His brain slowly registered what he had just seen. Kimishita. Happy. About Mizuki’s affection. He had looked so calm and grateful, like a kitten nuzzling the hand that scratched its ears and purring with delight. He had been blushing... and smiling... Kimishita, who never smiled...

 _No!_  Ooshiba shook his head so hard he saw stars, but it was in vain. It was too late. The image of Kimishita relaxing into Mizuki’s touch had already been ingrained into his mind, and no amount of shaking could make him forget it again.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand. What the hell had happened? For the past few days, hadn’t Kimishita looked tense and anxious every time Mizuki appeared? Hadn’t he almost seemed afraid? What had happened to that? Why was he suddenly relaxing around him, more than he ever relaxed around anyone, even Ooshiba? Why was he suddenly blushing and smiling, fucking  _smiling_ , when all anyone could ever hope to get from him was a smirk? What was wrong with him?  _He didn’t understand!_

Ooshiba didn’t get a single thing. He had always thought he knew Kimishita better than anyone. He had always thought they knew everything about each other, that they had no secrets, but apparently he had been wrong. There was so much he still didn’t know about Kimishita. And the worst part was that, from the looks of it, Mizuki did.

Mizuki. That stupid bastard Mizuki. What had he done to Kimishita? They had always been a perfect duo until he showed up! Sure, they had bickered and fought and called each other names, but they had always been together. They had understood each other without words. They’d formed a perfect team, and Ooshiba had thought they would always be that way, hoped they’d never change, even if he had never admitted it. Maybe they would have stayed like that. Except maybe never happened, because then Mizuki had barged in, and Kimishita had changed. Shifted his attention away from Ooshiba, forgotten he was there too, just because he thought he had found someone better. And now it was like they couldn’t get through to each other anymore.

Earlier on Kimishita hadn’t even understood who and what Ooshiba had been referring to. And now it was Ooshiba who had no idea what was going on in Kimishita’s head.

He wasn’t being blackmailed. That much was for sure. He had looked happy just now, happier than Ooshiba had ever seen him with anyone. If anything he seemed to like Mizuki, a lot. And then the hand-holding, the blushes–

No! That couldn’t be! Kimishita’s taste couldn’t be that bad. He couldn’t possibly feel like  _that_ , could he? Not towards Mizuki! If he did, then why the hell should he have acted so nervous, almost scared? Kimishita had no reason to be scared of a person he liked if that person even liked him back! It had to be something else. Something. Anything. He didn’t know what, but there had to be  _something_ , right?

Why did he even care so much about that kind of thing?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t put it into words. All he knew was that the image of Kimishita smiling and blushing under Mizuki’s touch made him feel like he was losing a limb.

\---

Several hours later he still didn’t get what had happened.

Kimishita seemed to be back to normal. If anything he was in a better mood than usual, and at long last he had stopped acting weird around Mizuki, facing him calmly and with renewed pride. Ooshiba wasn’t sure if he should feel happy about that. He wondered if it had anything to do with the incident earlier, if the thing that had finally snapped Kimishita out of his strange behavior had been Mizuki’s gentle touch.

The thought was more painful than he wanted to admit.

But there was no explanation, not as long as their practice match continued and Kimishita stayed laser-focused on the game, and Ooshiba found himself forced to do the same. For a brief moment he almost forgot how much was really wrong here, and for a precious few minutes everything seemed back to normal.

Then Tsukamoto fell, and Ooshiba caught a glimpse of Mizuki’s face as he patted the kid’s head.

Recognition shot through him, quickly followed by anger. That gesture, that face looked too familiar. These expression, these movements... Mizuki was treating Tsukamoto the exact same way he had treated Kimishita earlier, except that Tsukamoto didn’t seem nearly as overjoyed about it.

This bastard. This stupid, insensitive bastard. Could he not see what he was doing? He was obviously special to Kimishita, so what the hell was he doing, making him so happy when he was just treating him like literally anyone else? Was he getting his hopes up and then crushing them on purpose or what?

_You fucking asshole. Kimishita deserves way better, you stupid shithead Captain!_

Without a thought about what he was doing, his gaze flitted over to Kimishita, searching for his face. Had he seen? Had he noticed...?

Ooshiba took one look at Kimishita’s face and felt a stab of pain shoot through his body. A split second’s glance at his expression told him a hundred times more than words ever could.

Kimishita had seen. And he had noticed. He was clearly trying to hide it, but his face was still pale as a sheet, hundreds of emotions reflecting in his eyes. Shock, horror, understanding, frustration, anger, resignation, shame. And pain, pure, indescribable pain. He looked like someone whose heart had just shattered to pieces, and it took all of Ooshiba’s strength not to turn away because he couldn’t bear the sight.

_He really does... love him._

_Captain doesn’t love him back._

_But he loves Captain anyway._

The walls of denial he had built around himself cracked and shattered to pieces. The truths forced their way inside his mind, harsh and cold and violent, punching him in the gut and twisting in his chest. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Kimishita was in love with Mizuki, and no matter how nice Mizuki was trying to be to him, he didn’t like him back. And yet...

Kimishita... was in love with Mizuki.

Ooshiba had lost. He had lost to Mizuki again– no, he had lost  _Kimishita_ , and that was a million times worse. It wasn’t that Kimishita had fallen for Mizuki of all people. It was that Kimishita was in love with someone else at all, someone other than him. Even though–

“Hey, idiot. Are you listening?”

Ooshiba snapped out of his thoughts with a start. Around him the game had resumed, and he had barely registered it. And standing in front of him, scowling up with annoyed green eyes that tried and failed to hide the worry underneath, was that stupid Kimishita.

“What?” he burst out, all of his pent-up rage erupting from within. “You want something, dickhead?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, but the worry in his eyes didn’t disappear. “I said,” he snapped impatiently, “is something wrong? You’ve been making a face like you’re hiding an injury.”

 _He noticed._  Ooshiba felt cold. Kimishita had noticed the look on his face. He thought he was hurt... he was worried...

Damn it. Why now of all times? This wasn’t fair!

“I’m fine,” Ooshiba muttered, turning away to avoid Kimishita’s eyes, those dark green eyes that continued to look up on him with painfully familiar concern, concern that reminded him too strongly of old times when they had still been a team of two. “Fuck off.”

“Fine, my ass! If you’re fine then how come you’re all zoned out and looking like you’ve been stabbed in the back in the middle of a practice match, huh?” Kimishita’s hand reached up to close around his arm, stopping him from running away. “If you’re hiding an injury and letting it get worse I swear–”

_Stop it! Why are you doing this when you only care about Captain anyway?_

“Shut up!” Ooshiba yelled, yanking his arm free and storming off before Kimishita could stop him again. “I said I’m okay! You’re not okay! So how ‘bout you stop zoning out and looking like you got cut up yourself, you stupid fucking hypocrite!”

His heart was pounding out of his chest. His head was spinning. His chest was full. Anger, pain and disappointment boiled in his veins, mingling into a burning, explosive mess.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. Why had he only realized it now that Kimishita was taken? Why had he realized it at all? Why hadn’t he known right from the very beginning, or never at all? Why now, now that Kimishita’s heart was in the hands of someone else?

Even though that someone else wasn’t right for him? Even though that someone else didn’t love him?

It was so unfair. Kimishita was unfair. Mizuki was unfair. His own feelings were unfair. Why had Kimishita fallen for Mizuki of all people, Mizuki who already had everything Ooshiba could only wish for and more? Why Mizuki, who was so stupid and clueless and insensitive? Why Mizuki, who didn’t deserve him at all? Ooshiba deserved him way more. He’d know how to treat him right. He’d know not to hurt him.

But most of all...

Unlike Mizuki, he actually loved him.


	5. Distant

Kimishita was the first one out of the club room that day. Before anyone could talk to him he had quickly thrown on his school uniform, muttered something about being in a hurry and rushed out of the building before anyone could speak to him, let alone offer to walk him home. He didn’t want to see or hear anyone. He just wanted to be alone until he had sorted himself out and made sense of his thoughts and feelings.

His shoulders felt heavier than they had ever felt before, even though he couldn’t even tell if he had remembered to take his bag or not. His legs seemed made of lead. The freezing cold wind pulling at his coat and hair barely registered. All he could think about was today’s soccer practice and the nagging, looming question what he should do now.

He wasn’t special to Mizuki. That much was obvious. No matter what Mizuki himself said, how much kindness he showed him, Kimishita didn’t stand any more or less of a chance than anyone else on the team, if it could even be called a chance at all. Mizuki didn’t return his feelings one bit, and he had been foolish to ever hope anything else. That was the harsh truth, and it stung him more than he could ever show anyone.

What should he do? Staying with Mizuki when he didn’t stand a chance would be stupid. He should break things off and distance himself and move on, set himself free, focus on soccer and studies and the store, the things that actually worked out for him. Put his energy into useful things and his future instead of wasting it on people he didn’t understand. Maybe find someone new eventually, someone who could actually like him back, if such a person even existed in this world.

But how should he do that? How should he distance himself when he and Mizuki were still midfielder and forward, a crucial part of the same team? How should he move on when he would still have to see and talk to and play with Mizuki day after day, a walking reminder of what might have been if he hadn’t cut him off and given up hope?

He shook his head. That was stupid. There was no hope. He didn’t stand a fool’s chance with Mizuki. Today had been enough to prove that. Mizuki didn’t love him back, and from the way things were now, he didn’t even seem close to it. Hoping that things would change would be nothing but stupid self-destruction.

_But what if you’re wrong? What if you misunderstood everything and still have a chance? What if you’ll lose everything by giving up now?_

He flinched.  _Giving up..._  He didn’t want to call it that. He hated giving up. He hated  _people_  who gave up, more than anything. This was simply knowing when to fold it. He hadn’t been wrong earlier. Mizuki didn’t like him back. That was too glaringly obvious to deny.

_What if he’ll develop feelings, like he said he might? Do you really want to give up on him only to discover that he’s grown to like you back after it’s too late?_

But what were the odds?

He and Mizuki had known each other for almost two years. Almost two years in which they had played together, teamed up over and over, slowly developed into the dynamic duo they were now. Almost two years in which Mizuki had come to know Kimishita just like Kimishita had grown to know him, and during all that time he had never shown any signs of a romantic interest. If nothing had happened up until now, why should that change? He had once heard that falling in love took only a fifth of a second. If that fifth of a second had never hit Mizuki in all those months, was it even possible to occur now?

No. No matter what the naïve dreaming part of his brain was trying to tell him, it couldn’t and wouldn’t happen. It was scientifically impossible. Any hope beyond this point would only hurt him more than it already had.

What should he do, then? Now that he had finally thrown his last hope of having his feelings returned overboard, how should he go on?

The wisest choice would probably be to make a clean cut. Break off their stupid little relationship that had been a big lie from the get-go, avoid Mizuki as much as he could, even if he missed him, even if it hurt. The key words being  _as much as he could_. How far away could he stay from Mizuki when they were still teammates and partners and friends? Should he stop passing to him? No, the team would definitely suffer from that. Should he end their friendship?

Cut ties with Mizuki... Mizuki, who had been so selfless, so generous and extraordinarily kind... Mizuki, who loved all his teammates like family, even if they didn’t return the feeling...

The very thought made him feel lonely.

No, he couldn’t stay away from him after all. But maybe he really should end this relationship. Even if it didn’t change anything else, it would be the first step to freedom.

His phone buzzed. Kimishita blinked, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings once again as his feet came to a halt, his hand sliding into his pocket. His old flip phone was as freezing cold as the air around him.

He wondered if he should take it out and read whatever message had just reached him. He still wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to interact with anyone right now. But if it was his father, or if it was important otherwise...

With a sigh he forced himself to pull out his phone, flipping it open and reading the message displayed on the screen.

It wasn’t from his father. The address bar read  _Captain_.

He tensed up. Mizuki? Mizuki never messaged anyone. This had to be a mistake. Someone else must have borrowed his phone to text him, or perhaps he had sat on the keyboard or hit the text button by accident. And yet, frustratingly, predictably, his heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

Oh, damn. It would take him ages to get over this crush.

Bracing himself for a disappointment and secretly hoping it was one, he pressed the button to open the message.

It wasn’t from someone else borrowing Mizuki’s phone, and it wasn’t a butt-dial either. Flashing back at him from the screen was one simple sentence:

_where are you?_

Kimishita lowered his head even though there was no one around whose gaze he could avoid. His face felt warm again as he flipped his phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket, as far as he could, zipping it closed and running a hand through his hair. Mizuki... Was he worried about him? Worried enough to text him and ask even though he usually never did? Or did he think this was just another one of his boyfriend duties?

Of course. Of course Mizuki was worried, Kimishita must have acted strange when he slipped out of the club room earlier looking like a stressed-out mess. To say nothing of not waiting for him after they had walked home together the past few days. Any good friend would be worried, and Mizuki was a good friend. But the text... That still wasn’t like the usual Mizuki, worried or not. If anything he should call, like he usually did. But he hadn’t... Did he not have the time? Or was he actually mindful of their privacy and Kimishita’s wish to keep their  _relationship_  as secret as possible?

Maybe. In any case he was probably doing it because he thought that any good boyfriend should.

Clicking his tongue and sighing in frustration, Kimishita pulled his phone back out and typed in a reply, just to stop him from getting any more concerned.  _On my way home,_  he wrote.  _Halfway there. In a hurry today–_

He paused, shook his head, and deleted the last sentence. No, that didn’t sound right. He stared at the screen for a few moments, then he tried again.  _Sorry for not waiting earlier–_

No, that sounded too much like he expected Mizuki to walk home with him. Couldn’t say that. He deleted it again, closed his eyes, opened them again, and tapped his fingers against the keyboard without actually typing anything.

Should he just send the message off without another sentence? No, that didn’t feel right. He felt like he owed Mizuki some kind of explanation, but he had no idea what to say. What was there to say? That he had realized they’d never work out? That he wanted to be alone to figure out what to do with his doomed one-sided feelings?

Ah, screw it.

Clicking his tongue, he typed in a final sentence and hit the send button before he could change his mind again.

_On my way home. Halfway there. Everything fine, just tired._

He just hoped Mizuki would be satisfied with that answer, because if he made the captain worry any more he wouldn’t know what to do. He hated this. No matter what he did he was constantly giving Mizuki trouble, making him worry and go out of his way to help him, and he didn’t even know how to stop it or pay him back.

Perhaps that was one more reason to break up. He wouldn’t give Mizuki so much trouble anymore, and he wouldn’t owe him any more than he already did.

But Mizuki had already gone through so much for his sake. He had initiated this whole thing for him, and if Kimishita dumped him now, it would be a disgustingly ungrateful move. Mizuki was setting worlds in motion for him, and he couldn’t even appreciate the effort? If he pulled that nonsense, what kind of friend would he be?

Maybe it was cowardly. It was definitely stupid and asking for more heartbreak. But Kimishita couldn’t end things with Mizuki that easily. Not yet. He already felt far too indebted to him.

Swallowing down the harsh thought, he stuffed his phone into his pocket and resumed walking, picking up his pace when he looked at the time and realized he was already running late for his shift. The streets were as quiet as they could be at this time of the day. The only people nearby were a mother and her preschool-aged son, the little boy crying and refusing to keep walking and throwing a tantrum on the sidewalk.

“No!” he was screaming through snot and tears, over and over again. “No! No! No! I want Sharky!”

The mother, clearly used to this, gave a tired sigh and pulled out a tissue to wipe the kid’s face, but the boy pulled away whenever she came close to him. “Now look here,” she said with forced calm. “Sharky is gone, but no need to be so sad, all right? I’m sure he’s in a good place now.”

_A lost toy?_  Kimishita wondered idly as he passed them, avoiding eye contact with the poor stressed-out woman.

The little boy cried even harder. “But I don’t want Sharky to be gone!” he screeched. “He can’t be in a good place! The best place is with me! Why can’t Sharky come back? Stupid, stupid Sharky!”

Only his manners kept Kimishita from covering his ears. So loud. This was why he never wanted kids.

“Sharky can’t come back, Sharky is  _dead!_ ” the mother snapped, and the brat was so startled that he stopped screeching momentarily. “He’s gone, don’t you understand? Fish don’t live as long as people, and he was already old. You couldn’t expect him to live forever!”

The brat listened for a wonderfully quiet moment, processing her words, then he started howling and screaming nonsense again.

The mother heaved a sigh. “Come on,” she said, her calm, bright voice sounding awfully forced. “He wouldn’t want you to cry like that. Why don’t we go and find you a new goldfish? We can find one that looks exactly like Sharky! Hm?”

For a moment the boy went completely quiet. Kimishita peered over his shoulder to find him looking up at his hopeful-looking mother with wide, amazed eyes. “Just like Sharky...?”

“Yes!” His mother forced a wide smile. “You won’t even tell the difference. It’ll be like he never left!”

She probably shouldn’t have said that, because the brat burst into tears with a whole new ferocity.

“But it’s not Sharky!” he screamed, so loudly that the old lady on the other side of the street turned around with a worried face. “I don’t want some stupid replacement who looks like Sharky! Sharky was my friend! I want Sharky back!”

_Weird name for a goldfish,_  Kimishita thought as he hurried along the street and away before the brat’s screeching could shatter his eardrums. It was the kind of name Kiichi might give one of his tropical fish, despite them looking nothing like sharks. He was that type of person, after all. Childish. Strange.

Kiichi... Kimishita slowed down, concern flooding in with the memories from practice earlier. He still remembered Kiichi’s pained face in minute detail, his clenched fists, his gritted teeth, his eyes that looked so bright with helplessness and anguish underneath his furrowed brows. In all the years they had known each other Kimishita had only seen him sport this expression once, and back then he had been in so much pain that the coach had forced him to sit the day out after less than five minutes on the pitch. He hoped it wasn’t something like that again. Kiichi was one of Seiseki’s three arrows, and the team needed him on the field. Kimishita needed him on the field, as a powerful decoy and a stupid, reliable partner.

He hoped Kiichi wasn’t injured. But even if he wasn’t, that look on his face was still worrying him. He hoped the idiot was okay, and that whatever had hurt him so badly would go over soon, whether it affected his performance on the pitch or not. Kiichi was important to him, as a player too, but most of all as a person, a long-time companion, and as irritating as he usually was Kimishita would never have the heart to wish anything bad on him. Especially not something that made him suffer as much as... whatever this was.

_Do you hear that, idiot?_  he thought as he walked down the street to his house, breathing into his cupped hands to regain the feeling in his fingers.  _Watch out for yourself. I already have enough to worry about, so do me the favor and be fine._

\---

Ooshiba got it now. He didn’t know why it had taken him so many years to realize it, but now that it was too late, he understood. He was in love with Kimishita. And he had been in love with him for almost as long as he could remember.

And now that he knew it, Kimishita was gone. In love with someone else. Ooshiba had missed his chance, the chance that he’d had for such a long time.

No. No, that wasn’t true. He might still stand a chance. He might have lost the battle, but he’d be damned if he gave up here and lost the war.

After all, there was still hope. Kimishita was in love with Mizuki, but he wasn’t happy. Mizuki didn’t like him back. What was that guy thinking, going around and breaking Kimishita’s heart? That bastard didn’t even deserve him! Ooshiba loved Kimishita, actually loved him, so he deserved him a thousand times more than Mizuki did!

That was right. Kimishita was blind and mistaken. Ooshiba was the much better choice for him, and all he’d have to do was open his eyes and make him realize that.

After all, Ooshiba was in the right here. He was the good guy. He was a hero, and heroes didn’t lose.

Especially not to their arch-rivals.

\---

The next morning felt a little better than yesterday, but only in that it was somewhat calmer. Kimishita didn’t feel happier in the slightest. Yesterday’s decision was still weighing down on him, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it just yet.

He hated everything about this. But he’d rather Mizuki see him as a lovesick idiot than an ungrateful bastard who made him do the impossible and then backed out of the whole deal a few days later.

Still hoping no one would talk to him, he changed into his jersey, tied his cleats and made his way out onto the soccer pitch before the majority of the team arrived. The school was still quiet at this time of the morning. Ubukata and Coach Nakazawa were discussing a stack of scribbled notes a little way off, but apart from that the pitch was empty, except for the incorrigible Tsukamoto who was already out running laps.

Footsteps approached behind Kimishita, and before he could respond a large hand rested on his shoulder, making him flinch and his whole body tense.

Kimishita spun around, all alarm bells in his head going off at once. Then his eyes registered who was standing next to him, and he let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

“Kiichi,” he said, feeling his whole body relax.  _Thank goodness it’s just you._  “What are you doing here at this time of the day, idiot? You never show up this early!”

Kimishita half expected Kiichi to yell back at him and pick a fight, but he didn’t. He didn’t act proud or smug either. He only turned his head away, a slight blush creeping on his face as he pouted. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah?” Kimishita frowned up at him. “First that look yesterday, and now you can’t sleep? Are you getting sick?”

“No!” Kiichi’s pout intensified. “I just couldn’t sleep! It happens, shithead!”

_But not to you,_  Kimishita thought, feeling more worried than ever. Kiichi loved sleeping in, and he could sleep anywhere, under any circumstances. If he couldn’t sleep it was usually a sign that he was very sick... or that something was bothering him, badly. Kimishita wasn’t sure which one was worse.

“If you say so,” he said out loud, clicking his tongue with impatience. “It better be the truth, moron. If I catch you hiding a sickness or an injury I’ll kick your stupid ass!” He looked up at Kiichi’s face again, taking in every detail of his features. He didn’t look sick, at least. The pained expression from yesterday was all gone, replaced by one of stubborn determination, the kind of stubborn determination Kimishita knew all too well from him. “Whatever hurt you yesterday... doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

Kiichi tried to look unfazed, but Kimishita wasn’t fooled. His mask wasn’t perfect. For just a split second, shorter than the blink of an eye, he flinched.

“I’m fine,” he declared confidently, and Kimishita felt more concerned than ever. “Never been greater!”

_You liar. There’s something wrong, and we both know it._

“Alright,” Kimishita snapped, “I get it! No need to go around bragging, just say you’re all right!” He clicked his tongue. “What did you want from me, anyway? Attention? Go to Tsukamoto for that.” He gestured to the first-year, who had to be on his fifth lap by now.

Kiichi shook his head, almost offended by the question. Then he lowered his head. His hand that still rested on Kimishita’s shoulder tightened its grip, fingers digging into fabric.

“What do you like about  _him?_ ”

Kimishita blinked. Out of all the questions he could have asked, he hadn’t expected this one.

“Who?” he asked even though he knew exactly who Kiichi had to mean, just to kill a few seconds’ more time.

Kiichi silently nodded towards Mizuki, who was making his way onto the pitch surrounded by the other third-years.

Kimishita swallowed. Once again he wondered if Kiichi knew, if he had figured him out after all. Then he ruled out the possibility. Kiichi probably thought he passed to Mizuki more because he liked him better, that was all.

What should he say to that? The truth? Should he say that Mizuki was intense, engaging in ways few other people were, simple-minded and kind and selfless, embarrassing sometimes but blessed with a big, caring heart? Should he say that Mizuki was the type of person almost anyone would like? Should he say that maybe the captain was just the type he tended to gravitate to?

Then he sighed.

“Beats me,” he said with a dry smirk, and for some reason it didn’t feel like a lie. “Most of the time I wonder that too.”

Kiichi looked puzzled by that, his expression meandering between confusion and satisfaction. And if the subject of their conversation hadn’t been so heavy, his stupid face might have been enough to make Kimishita snort a laugh.


	6. Explosives

Kimishita turned and pulled away from Ooshiba’s hand, leaving nothing but confusion and questions behind.

_Most of the time I wonder that too._  Seriously? What the hell kind of stupid answer was that? That didn’t even make sense! Kimishita had to like Mizuki for  _some_  reason, right? It wasn’t like he had just randomly decided to like him even though there was nothing likable about him!

He opened his mouth to yell at him, but at that moment Coach Nakazawa blew his whistle to make everyone gather around him, and he swallowed his annoyance and tried to stand as close to Kimishita as he could. Then they were sent out to run laps, and Kimishita had sped off long before he had even half a chance to run with him.

Of course Mizuki was already gone too.

Ooshiba clenched his fists. What the hell. What was up with that bastard Kimishita? First he wouldn’t tell him why he liked Mizuki, and then he didn’t even wait for him but took off with the captain who treated him like crap? What kind of ungrateful bastard! Couldn’t he see that Ooshiba loved him and was the much nicer guy? Couldn’t he see that Ooshiba was simply  _better_  for him, from any possible standpoint?

Why did all the best people always,  _always_  go for the jerks who hurt them?

Ooshiba didn’t know. He didn’t get any of this. But it ticked him off. Kimishita ticked him off. He had always been so smart! He had always known everything! How could that guy suddenly get so ignorant and stupid and hurt himself with it? It was annoying, annoying,  _annoying!_

But that didn’t mean he’d give up. He would keep trying to open his eyes. He couldn’t lose this battle, even if it meant he’d have to fight with his claws and teeth and everything else he possessed. So maybe Kimishita was stupid and blind. So maybe he was still chasing after Mizuki even though Mizuki didn’t even deserve a second look. But if he hadn’t lied to Ooshiba earlier, if he really didn’t know why he liked Mizuki so much...

Then maybe there was still a chance.

Gritting his teeth and not even bothering to hide his scowl, Ooshiba turned and ran after his teammates, sprinting at full speed and barely paying attention to the others as they hurriedly jumped out of his way. He would prove he was the better choice. He would bump Kimishita’s nose against the fact until even that stupid, arrogant jerk-face had to accept it.

Somehow.

He just had to show what a great guy he was.

His feet sped over the ground, hurriedly, tirelessly. His teammates’ faces rushed by him, too quick for him to bother recognizing them at all. His eyes were darting ahead, further, further. They were sprinting in front of him, dashing, chasing after the only face in this crowd that was important right now.

Kimishita. Where was Kimishita?

He sprinted around the corner, cutting it so close his shoulder scraped hard against a wall. And then he saw him. Running close to the front... right next to  _that goddamn Mizuki_.

This idiot!

Picking up speed one more time, Ooshiba stormed up to the pair, pushing and shoving through his teammates without watching where he was going at all. Anger was boiling up in his veins. He shouldn’t be surprised. He had expected to see this. And yet, secretly, he had hoped that he was wrong, that Kimishita had just darted off alone and not ditched him for Mizuki yet again.

But of course he hadn’t. Of course that stupid, ignorant moron just had to go back to that guy again!

“Hey, asshole!” he burst out, breathless enough to sound like an idiot and furious enough not to care. “What the fuck did you run off for? Are you running away or what, dickhead?”

Kimishita whipped around, his eyes narrowed to flashing green slits. “Huh?” he growled, a sharp edge in his voice as he slowed down and lapsed into stride next to Ooshiba. “What are you going on about this time, you good-for-nothing idiot?”

“You sprinted off as soon as Coach told us to run!” Ooshiba panted, grabbing Kimishita’s shirt and yanking him his way, almost knocking them both together as they ran. “Fucking wait for people, bastard! Or do you just wait for the people who treat you like shit?”

Kimishita’s eyes flashed, and this time they weren’t glowing; they were splinters of green ice, freezing cold and furious. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hissed, tearing himself from Ooshiba’s grasp. “Wait for who, huh? As far as I know, I didn’t wait for anyone!”

“You shoulda!”

“Since when?” Kimishita yelled back. “If you want me to wait for you then tell me, idiot! I can’t read minds!”

“You didn’t even look around!” Ooshiba didn’t know why he was so angry, but he was boiling. Raging. Trembling from head to toe like an earthquake, a volcano split seconds before it erupted. “If you’d looked at me you would’ve known, asshole! But you didn’t give a shit! The only one you ever look at is–”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Ooshiba blinked. The blinding fury in his mind seemed to fade, and little by little the whole situation moved back into view.

Kimishita’s face was icy cold, but his eyes were burning. His whole body seemed to be trembling with rage, tensed up and shaking with white-hot, indescribable fury.

“You idiot,” he growled, his voice barely louder than a whisper but filled to the brim with ice. “What are you trying to say, huh?”

_Oh shit. I really pissed him off._

“What are you always throwing tantrums about? This has been going for days!” Kimishita’s voice grew louder with every word, ringing in his ears. “What the fuck has been wrong with you, huh? Stop being so vague about it and just say it to my face! Or are you scared of that, huh?”

Ooshiba stared down at him, shock, panic and anger warring inside his mind. Had he gone too far? Had Kimishita caught on? Should he stop? Backpedal? Apologize–

No. Never.

Kimishita had no right to go around yelling at him like this. He was in the right! Kimishita was wrong! He was the good guy here!

“What the fuck!” he bellowed, so loudly that their teammates stopped running to turn and stare and Kimishita flinched away from him. “You ask  _me_  what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with  _you!_  Why are you still sticking to this stupid Captain who doesn’t give a fuck about you, you stupid blind asshole? There’s way nicer people around! Get a clue, dickhead!”

With that he stomped his foot and spun around on his heel, marching back along the rows of his teammates, ignoring the voices calling out his name. He didn’t care. He was furious. Kimishita was so stubborn! Why couldn’t that stupid bastard just open his eyes and realize what he had been missing all along? And when it had always been right under his very nose!

Why was he trying so hard, and Mizuki didn’t even care and still got everything he wanted? What was he doing wrong? No... What was wrong with Kimishita’s taste that had made it so completely, infuriatingly screwed up?

He hated this! He hated them both! Why couldn’t Kimishita just see who really liked him, who deserved him more? Did he not like nice people? Did he  _want_  to get hurt? He hated this!

“Kiichi!” Kimishita’s voice bellowed after him, drowning out the others, no longer furious but exasperated, disappointed. “Where are you going, idiot? At least finish your warmup laps! Kiichi!”

Ooshiba didn’t listen. He was warmed up enough. If he ran one more step, he felt like he might explode.

The last thing he caught from the corner of his eye was Mizuki going up to Kimishita, and then he turned and left both of them out of sight.

\---

It was only the beginning of morning practice, and Kimishita was tired. Fed up. Sick of everything.

He wanted to go home. He’d had it with everyone. He’d had it with Mizuki being so obliviously nice and breaking his heart every time they spoke, and he’d had it up to here with Kiichi. He’d had enough of his drama, his violent outbursts, his furious, cryptic accusations he kept throwing around at every chance he got. Enough of being yelled at for reasons he couldn’t even begin to understand.

It was so disappointing, really. For the past four years he and Kiichi had always understood one another. They had picked fights, and they had yelled at each other, but when push came to shove he knew he could always turn around and find Kiichi at his back, stubbornly supporting him and urging him to keep moving forward. In a very strange, awkward sort of way, Kiichi had been his friend.

Or so he had always thought.

Lately he wasn’t so sure anymore. Lately everything he did seemed wrong in Kiichi’s eyes, and no matter what he did he only got himself yelled at, grabbed, punched, accused. Now that he needed Kiichi’s support the most, Kiichi was no longer making sense. Now that he was in such a dire need of a friend, someone to believe in him and have his back...

Now of all times Kiichi suddenly chose to act his worst, throw tantrums like a five-year-old, hurl insults at him at random, and almost behave like he had some right to claim ownership over him. A stupid, spoiled, entitled brat at his very finest.

In all honesty, maybe that was all he was, really.

The thought was infuriating, but maybe he had been wrong to rely on Kiichi so much. After all, that guy was still an overgrown man-child in a seventeen-year-old’s body, and right now it felt like that was all he’d ever be.

Fine.

If Kiichi insisted on giving him a hard time when he was already struggling, his problem. It wasn’t like Kimishita had to continue counting on him.

\---

Nobody had tried to stop Ooshiba as he marched along the line of his teammates. Nobody had tried to stop him as he stormed back onto the pitch, grabbed a ball and started kicking it into the goal, time after time after time, slamming it with such brute force that it almost tore the net off its hinges. Nobody tried to talk to him. He simply kept on kicking the ball over and over until his mind had gone numb and he couldn’t remember how long he had been doing this or where the others were anymore.

He didn’t register the team gradually returning back to the pitch. All confused, intimidated glances that were thrown his way bounced right off his back. It wasn’t until the whistle rang that he finally stopped kicking the ball and slowly returned back to reality.

It still sucked as much as it had when he’d left it.

The coach had shouted something about pairing up for warmup exercises, and that was all Ooshiba needed to hear as his gaze darted towards Kimishita. Only to see a familiar picture.

Mizuki had approached Kimishita with a friendly look in his eyes and a curious tilt of his head, saying something that Ooshiba didn’t catch. Kimishita avoided his gaze as he seemed to struggle with himself, then he scowled, snapped a few words at the captain, and reluctantly paired up with him. Ooshiba glared daggers across the field, but neither of them noticed. Usui raised a curious eyebrow at the pair; then he shrugged, smiled, and crossed the pitch to team up with Suzuki.

Others seemed to have seen them too.

All around Ooshiba voices stirred up, hushed whispers, quiet and yet too loud in his ears. He couldn’t identify them. He couldn’t even tell which direction each one came from. All he caught were the words.

“Hey, is it just me, or have Captain and Kimishita-senpai seemed close lately?”

“It’s definitely not just you. They’ve been doing everything together!”

“Ah, but Kimishita-senpai doesn’t seem too happy about it... I wonder what happened?”

“Isn’t that just because of who he is as a person? If you ask me, he totally likes Captain a lot!”

“Huh, but now that you mention it... Didn’t he seem awkward around him before they got all close? And now they’re joined at the hip... What’s up with that?”

“Maybe they had a fight and made up, and now they’re super close and all that?”

“Maybe... or maybe they–”

_You’re all wrong._

Ooshiba stomped his foot against the ground, so violently that they flinched and fell silent.

_Shut up,_  he thought furiously, bitterly, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his skin, probably leaving bruises. He barely felt it. His body was numb, and yet every bart of him was burning on the inside, dizzy and reeling with anger at them for wondering, anger at Kimishita and Mizuki for acting so close even others had started to notice. The others were dead wrong. Kimishita and Mizuki weren’t close. They hadn’t had a fight or made up. They weren’t joined at the hip! Why were they all saying that? Why was everyone so  _wrong?_

And then it hit him. He wasn’t angry, he realized. That too. But that wasn’t what was upsetting him so much.

The others’ words just hurt him. He was jealous. Jealous that they were talking about Kimishita and Mizuki instead of him. Jealous that they thought Kimishita liked Mizuki. Jealous that they had never said the same things about him, even though it should have been him from the beginning.

He hated this. So much. The injustice of it all was slowly eating him up from the inside.

He should tell Kimishita–

A hand on his arm stopped him, and he turned around to find Hideki looking up at him, dark eyes exasperated but sympathetic. “Leave it,” he said. “You can always deal with that later. Right now I need somebody to do my stretches with.”

Ooshiba hesitated, then he nodded and turned back to his best friend to continue the warmups. But all through the stretches he never stopped thinking about Kimishita and Mizuki for a second.

\---

Kimishita wouldn’t talk to him, but Ooshiba kept trying. During the practice game he intercepted a pass to Mizuki and scored a goal. Later he tried to walk to class with him, and in class he sent him texts until his phone got confiscated. But the only response he ever got from Kimishita was a look of tired disappointment, cold silence and green eyes that avoided his own.

He didn’t get it. Why was Kimishita mad at him for speaking the truth? What the hell should he have done? He was right! Kimishita just had to grow up and acknowledge that, dammit!

Okay, he would try once more. One more time. Kimishita was a stupid, blind idiot, but Ooshiba was giving him just another chance. Because he loved him.

\---

Kimishita stared down at his phone, Kiichi’s unanswered messages from earlier still staring back at him. At least he had stopped texting him every three minutes, he thought, or else he wouldn’t have known what to do. For a moment he had felt tempted to block his number. He was fed up with him, and the way he had behaved all day today hadn’t helped Kiichi’s case in the slightest.

All day this idiot had been spouting nonsense. All day he had been almost desperately trying to get attention, making a fool of himself, snatching it from others, lashing out at people, throwing tantrums like a preschooler. And each time he had acted more and more like he thought Kimishita owed him something.

He wasn’t sure what was going on. But this was too much for him. It was hard enough for him to deal with all this Mizuki nonsense, he didn’t need Kiichi stressing him out on top of that. He should really cut him off for the time being, at the very least until he had his life together again. That was what any reasonable human being should do in his place.

But Kiichi had been his friend for so long. They had shared so much. And deep down he just couldn’t believe that Kiichi would act like such a complete and utter douchebag for no good reason. Maybe something had happened. Maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe there was a way to still clear this up, somehow.

So he was giving him just another chance. Because he had always believed in him.

\---

“Hey.”

Kimishita looked up, startled. For a second he had almost thought the hand putting down the strawberry popsicle belonged to Mizuki again. Then he followed it up along the arm with his eyes and met with a face he wasn’t sure he was happy to see.

“Kiichi,” he said warily. “What do you want?”

Kiichi opened his mouth, then he closed it again, shrugging and pouting as he sat down across from him. “Nothing.”

“What’s this feeling of déjà vu, I wonder?”

“What kind of day?”

“Déjà vu. Look it up in a dictionary.” Kimishita rolled his eyes, and there it was again. That fleeting feeling like everything was back to normal and the strange drama had never happened.

“Eat your ice cream,” Kiichi said after a while, still not looking at him. “It’s gonna melt, you ungrateful jerk.”

Kimishita reached for the popsicle, then he stopped, his hand hovering in midair. “Calling me names again, huh?” he asked coolly. “What are you playing at this time?”

“I got you food.” Kiichi crossed his arms. “Strawberry. Your favorite flavor. Not just bland-ass melon bread.”

_I knew it._  Irritation flaring, Kimishita dropped his hand, his eyes narrowing down on Kiichi’s face. “What is it with you and Captain lately?” he hissed. “Why are you suddenly so dead-set on fucking beating him at everything?”

“Because!” Kiichi burst out, so furiously that Kimishita flinched back. “Because I’m better than him! I’m nicer than him! I know you better! And you still choose him all the fucking time and it’s not fucking fair, you stupid biased dickhead! He’s not even trying and you–”

_He’s jealous._

Kimishita didn’t know why, but it was clear as day that he was. Kiichi was acting like a neglected child trying to regain his parent’s favor while they were trying to talk to someone else.

And suddenly it made sense.

Fury lurching inside him, Kimishita jumped up, grabbing Kiichi by the collar and yanking him up. “So that’s how it is!” he yelled, the realization white-hot in his mind, burning into his voice, his very being. “You just want attention, huh? I spend too much time with someone else and the spoiled little princeling feels neglected already! That’s how it is, isn’t it?”

Kiichi stared.

“ _Isn’t it?_ ”

“ _No!_ ”

Kiichi’s voice wasn’t angry this time. He just sounded desperate, desperate and hopeless. “I don’t want your fucking attention!” he screamed back, his hands gripping Kimishita’s shirt, clinging to it, so tightly his knuckles were white. “I just hate to see you like this! Captain’s shit for you and you don’t even get it! He doesn’t give a fuck about you! And I’ve been here since middle school and you just don’t get that–”

_Oh no, Kiichi. You’re the one who doesn’t get a thing._

“Get  _what?_ ” Kimishita bellowed, trembling with anger. “All I get from you is that you seem to think I’m your property! Just like you think you own the fucking world, do you? Stop acting like I belong to you!”

Kiichi’s eyes went wide. His hands let go of Kimishita’s collar. For a second countless emotions were written all over his face. Shock, confusion, fury, disappointment, hurt...

Doubt?

But Kimishita didn’t get to understand the look on his face before Kiichi turned, grabbed the popsicle from his desk, and made off towards the door, all the while hiding his face from sight.

\---

“Ooshiba.”

Mizuki’s expression was curious as he walked up to him, curious and friendly, as always with this guy. He always looked like this. Clueless. Stupid. Good-natured.

Ooshiba hated him.

But the captain didn’t seem to notice the obvious fury on his face. He just did what he always did, giving him that expectant look as he tilted his head to the side. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Ooshiba didn’t hesitate. Without a warning he stepped forward, grabbing Mizuki by the collar to glower down at him with fire in his eyes.

“Break up with him.”


	7. Lesson

Mizuki said nothing. His brown eyes simply continued to rest on Ooshiba, his expression as unreadable as always.

Ooshiba squirmed, but he didn’t break his gaze. The look on Mizuki’s face was making him uncomfortable. But it was irritating. Infuriating. How could that guy still look so calm when Ooshiba was literally at his throat?

“What?” he snapped, trying to shake off the squirming feeling in his gut. “Whatcha staring at? Say something already, you heartless son of a bitch!”

But Mizuki only tilted his head to the side, a confused frown on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

Was he serious?

“You don’t get that?” Ooshiba burst out, his hands gripping Mizuki’s jersey so tightly his arms were trembling, his blood boiling with fury and resentment and year-long envy. “Just how stupid are you? I’m telling you to stop hurting Kimishita, bastard!”

Mizuki looked at him for a long moment, then his frown deepened. “I’m not hurting him.”

Was he serious? Was he for real? How could one single guy be this  _dense?_

Ooshiba slammed him against the wall behind him, stomping his foot like a child. “Yes, you do!” he shouted. “You’re dating him even though you don’t even love him! And he knows you don’t! Do you know how much that fucking hurts him? Do you, Captain? ‘Cause  _I do!_ ”

He paused, catching his breath, but his body was still filled with dynamite, and his mind was on fire. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill the bastard who had broken Kimishita’s heart, who had stolen Kimishita away from the people who actually loved and deserved him.

“Hand him over!” he bellowed, almost ripping the fabric of Mizuki’s jersey in his hands. “Set him free! Break up with Kimishita, you stupid, selfish asshole!”

“No.”

Ooshiba stopped in his tracks. Mizuki’s expression had changed. There was still no anger in his eyes, but the confusion in them had disappeared, and he returned Ooshiba’s glowering gaze with steady, quiet determination.

“I’m doing this for Kimishita,” he said, and something about his his tone made Ooshiba fall silent, words stuck in his throat. “He told me he was in love with me. I offered to go out with him. He said it would make him happy.” Mizuki lowered his head without dropping his gaze, his eyes dark and serious and perfectly honest. “I won’t leave him till he wants me to.”

Ooshiba opened and closed his mouth. Mizuki’s words sounded kind, unexpectedly kind. And he seemed serious. He seemed... like he cared about Kimishita a lot.

But he was still  _wrong_ , damn it!

“I said  _leave him!_ ” he demanded, more stubborn and desperate than ever. “He’s not happy with you! I don’t care what he told you, have you seen his face? You don’t like him back and it makes him feel like shit! You–”

He stopped mid-sentence. What was he trying to say? Mizuki was definitely the selfish one here... he was hurting Kimishita... he was in the wrong...

And...?

Ooshiba glared at the ground, trying and failing to put the resentment, the hatred and grudge in his head into words. He knew exactly what was wrong. But the words kept slipping from his grasp, over and over again, leaving him with nothing.

The problem was... it was...

“ _You don’t deserve him!_ ”

Mizuki raised his head, equal parts startled and confused. Ooshiba barely registered him. Words were spilling from his mouth, a tide of all the emotion he had repressed for so long.

“He deserves better than you!” he burst out, ignoring the tightening feeling in his throat. “Why do you have to have him if you don’t even love him? Other people deserve him way better... actual people fucking love him, damn it! But he never looks at those people ‘cause of  _you!_  And you make him fall even harder! He’s not happy because of you! It’s your fucking fault, Captain!”

He lowered his head, trying to regain his breath that was coming in shaky gasps. His throat felt tighter than ever. Saying it all out loud somehow made the harsh reality hurt even more.

Mizuki simply continued to look at him, his eyes soft and dark with concern. “Ooshiba...”

“Break up with him,” Ooshiba hissed, clutching desperately at Mizuki’s shirt. “He’ll never do it on his own. If you wanna make up for breaking his heart, you gotta–”

“Shiba.”

Ooshiba fell silent. A hand had come to rest on his shoulder that definitely wasn’t Mizuki’s, and the calm, soothing voice behind his back was one that he knew too well.

“Usui,” Mizuki said just as the vice-captain stepped around him with that ever-present unreadable smile on his face. Ooshiba simply looked down at him. He hadn’t heard him coming at all. How long had that guy been here?

“Sorry for intruding,” Usui said calmly, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t sorry at all. “I happened to overhear part of what you said... Shiba, can I have a quick word with you?”

_You’ve totally been spying,_  Ooshiba thought as he met Usui’s unapologetic stare, as if his eyes were daring him to say something about it. But for once he didn’t. No matter how startled or angry he was, this was Usui Yuuta he was talking to, and he had learned what it meant to go up against him the hard way. That one time had been enough for a lifetime.

Without a word he let go of Mizuki’s shirt, throwing another furious glare, and then turned towards Usui with a spiteful frown, letting the vice-captain lead him away in the direction of the now-deserted club room.

“From what I heard just now,” Usui said as he motioned for him to sit down next to him on a bench, “you’re caught up in a bit of a love triangle, right?”

Ooshiba avoided his eyes, feeling his face heat up. Even if he said nothing, Usui already knew.

“It’s not fair,” he grumbled, clenching his fists. “Captain stole him from me! Kimishita is mine!”

Usui’s voice betrayed no emotion. “Yours?”

“Mine!” Ooshiba’s voice grew louder, angrier. “I was here first! Kimishita’s forward was always me! The one who knows him better was me! I know how to treat him right! The perfect guy for him is me and he doesn’t see it ‘cause he’s so caught up with Captain even though Captain doesn’t even want him! It’s Captain’s fault he’s not happy! It’s–”

“Shiba.”

Something about Usui’s tone made Ooshiba look up. Brown eyes met with his own, unreadable and intelligent, as if he was sure of knowing something Ooshiba didn’t.

“Are you sure you’re blaming Mizuki for Kimishita?” Usui crossed his legs and smiled slightly. “And you’re not just angry at him for making  _you_  unhappy?”

Ooshiba blinked. What was he... Could he...?

Of course not! This wasn’t about him! Maybe a little. But that wasn’t the problem here!

With a stubborn pout he crossed his arms, glaring down at Usui. “’Course not!” he snapped. “I’m just not happy ‘cause Kimishita’s not happy! He deserves better than that stupid Captain who–”

Usui’s tone didn’t change. “By better, you mean you, right?”

Ooshiba blinked again. What kind of stupid question was that? “’Course I mean me. I’m the best for him.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Ooshiba didn’t understand him at all. Why was Usui asking the obvious, wasn’t he smart? “Because I love him! He’d be happy with me. But that stubborn asshole doesn’t get it as long as Captain doesn’t dump him! If Captain broke up with him, he’d see who’s good for him! But Captain’s keeping him even though he doesn’t fucking want him!”

Usui raised an eyebrow. “So you think that if Kimishita gave up on Mizuki, he would fall in love with you?”

Ooshiba hesitated.

“What makes you think,” Usui continued in that same calm, quiet voice, “that he’d fall for you after losing Mizuki?”

Ooshiba’s frown deepened. “He’s gotta! I’ve always been here and I know him and I’d make him happy! He wants to be happy! He’d be stupid not to fall for me!”

Usui simply nodded as if he had understood something important, then he abruptly changed the subject. “Shiba... You want Mizuki to break up with Kimishita because Kimishita won’t give up on him otherwise, right?”

Ooshiba nodded firmly. “Yeah.”

“Well...” Usui momentarily closed his eyes. “What do you think will happen if Mizuki leaves him?”

What a stupid question. “He’ll be free–”

“No, Shiba.”

Ooshiba stopped in his tracks. He had just grown used to all these questions; the sudden blunt answer came completely out of left field. “What?”

“Do you know what will happen if Mizuki breaks off their relationship?” Usui continued, opening his eyes again and staring straight into Ooshiba’s soul. “Do you know how Kimishita will feel? He already confessed to Mizuki expecting to get rejected. When Mizuki offered to date him even though he didn’t like him back... it gave him a bit of hope. Yeah, I know it got crushed,” he remarked, just as Ooshiba opened his mouth. “But Mizuki still believes he might grow to like him back, and Kimishita knows that and it helps him. Even if he doesn’t believe it himself.” Usui gave a sympathetic smile. “If Mizuki suddenly ended this, do you know what Kimishita would think? He’d think he’s unlovable. He’d think he’s not even worth being in a pretend relationship with. You know how much he cares about Mizuki’s opinion of him. It would crush him, Shiba.”

Ooshiba said nothing. He wanted to argue, wanted to say this wasn’t true, but he didn’t know what to say. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, Usui’s words made too much sense to ignore.

“But–” he burst out, desperate and stubborn. “But that’s wrong! Kimishita’s not unlovable just ‘cause Captain–”

“That’s what we all know. But he doesn’t, and that’s the problem here.” Usui gave a quiet sigh, then he smiled. “That’s why the only way for him to get over Mizuki is if he overcomes his feelings himself. No one else can do it for him.”

Ooshiba stared at him, frustration punching him hard in the face. “Does that mean we can’t help him? Don’t fuck with me!”

“Oh no, sure we can.” Usui’s smile turned devious. “We could show him he’s worthy of love, for example.”

Ooshiba glared at the ground. “I’ve been trying!” he said. “But he just doesn’t get it! Even though I told him a hundred times! That stupid asshole, he thinks he’s better than me just ‘cause he’s got a crush on Captain! He should–”

“Shiba, do you really think he’d fall in love with someone who keeps insulting him and calling him names every time you talk?”

Ooshiba fell silent.

_I don’t insult him,_  he wanted to say.  _I don’t call him names._  But that would be a lie. Even he could tell.

So what? Kimishita did the same, and Ooshiba had still fallen in love with him! What did it matter? That blind, stuck-up bastard, he should really–

“You didn’t fall in love with Kimishita because he keeps insulting you,” Usui replied before he could say any of this out loud. “It’s because he still shows that he cares about you a lot, right?”

“Yeah, but–”  _It’s the same for me!_

“Meanwhile, you mean well but you insult him for not liking you back and having feelings he can’t control.” Usui tapped a finger against his chest. “You can’t claim ownership over him.”

Ooshiba jumped to his feet. “I don’t!” he protested, even though part of him whispered that it was a lie. “I just want him to be happy! And he can’t see how he can be happy!”

“That’s not up for you to decide,” Usui replied calmly. “Either way it’s not like Kimishita can do much about his feelings. Trust me, I’m pretty sure he’d rather not have them himself.”

“But then why–”

“Because feelings  _happen_ ,” Usui said, and for the first time there was a telltale glint of impatience in his voice. “You can’t influence them. That’s why you can’t blame Kimishita for liking Mizuki, and you can’t accuse him of being selfish or blind. Kimishita doesn’t owe you love just because you’re in love with him.” Usui’s eyes gave an amused twinkle. “By that same logic Mizuki would owe it to Kimishita to fall in love with him.”

Ooshiba reached out to grab Usui’s collar. “That’s different–”

“No, it’s not. It’s the exact same thing.” Usui stood up, calmly holding Ooshiba’s gaze. “So instead of throwing tantrums about something he can’t change, why don’t you try having some patience and showing him you’re there? It’s not guaranteed to work, but I’m sure Kimishita could use a good friend right now.”

And before Ooshiba could say another word, Usui gave him a knowing smile and left him alone in the club room.

\---

Ooshiba’s head felt very full when he walked home that day, barely watching where his feet were leading him. Usui’s words were still resonating through his mind. Mizuki couldn’t break up with Kimishita. Kimishita had to get over him by himself. Ooshiba might be able to help him with that. But he couldn’t lash out at Kimishita for not seeing the obvious... He had to show him he cared some other way. Some way that was less obvious. Some way that Kimishita would take even longer to understand. And some way that might not even work.

What should he do?

Part of him wanted to carry on like before. So maybe Usui said he was doing the wrong thing; so what? Usui couldn’t know everything! And what other way could there be to make Kimishita realize? Sure, that guy was stubborn, but if he kept telling him the truth then someday, eventually, he’d have to understand! After all, Kimishita might be dense right now but he wasn’t stupid, right?

But the rest of him disagreed. The rest of him was fed up with this, sick and tired of lashing out at Kimishita and being yelled at in return, of arguing and glaring and furious, cold silence. This wasn’t how they were supposed to be. They weren’t supposed to have serious fights. They weren’t supposed to get furious and hurt each other. Even if it was just to get along with Kimishita again, he didn’t want to fight anymore.

But if he was supposed to act any different... what was he supposed to do?  _Kimishita could use a good friend,_  Usui had said. And apparently a good friend wasn’t someone who threw insults at him or called him names when he was being a stupid, clueless idiot. A good friend... someone who had patience, someone who showed Kimishita he was there without anger or lashing out...

Someone... who proved to Kimishita that no matter how Mizuki felt about him, he was worthy of love.

Ooshiba stopped walking, watching a woman try to shake her small, fluffy, apparently very excitable dog off her leg. How was he supposed to show that to Kimishita? He felt it, of course. He felt it with every single inch of his being, but how was he supposed to show all that so that Kimishita would understand?

He could always just say it, of course.

Ooshiba’s face flushed scarlet at the mere thought. No way. That was embarrassing. He couldn’t just come out and tell Kimishita he was in love with him. That one simple sentence... just imagining to say it out loud made his throat go dry and his heart race a marathon, to say nothing of the glowing, burning blush spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. As much as he wished he could say it in front of Kimishita, it felt impossible.

If he couldn’t say it... then he’d have to show it, somehow. But how should he do that? How could he ever show all those feelings bottled up inside his chest, all the affection and admiration and loyalty and gratitude that even he hadn’t understood for so long?

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he  _wanted_  to do. If he could, he would shower Kimishita with affection. He’d bury him in all the hugs and cuddles and kisses and gentle touches he could possibly ask for, and he would spend every free moment with him and shower him with attention until Kimishita  _understood_ , until he finally accepted that even if Mizuki could never like him back, in someone else’s eyes he could still be the world.

But those were just his wishes. Kimishita would never let him; he was too easily embarrassed, and he was still like a stray cat when it came to being touched. If Ooshiba tried that he’d only lash out at him and be uncomfortable. If Ooshiba even managed to show him some unbidden affection without dying from complete embarrassment himself.

Then how should he show it? How should he show it in a way that was different from the way he acted now?

_Do you really think he’d fall in love with someone who keeps insulting him and calling him names every time you talk?  
_

_You can’t claim ownership over him._

Kimishita’s furious words resounded in his head, painfully in tune with Usui’s calm, knowing voice.  _All I get from you is that you seem to think I’m your property! Just like you think you own the fucking world, do you? Stop acting like I belong to you!_

The way he had acted before had made Kimishita upset. He had tried hard, but he hadn’t even thought of the possibility that Kimishita might feel like he felt entitled to him. Which wasn’t true, he reassured himself. But Kimishita had felt that way, and Usui had seen it that way too. Maybe they were both wrong, but... if his behavior hurt Kimishita, what was the point of being right?

Should he have thought of Kimishita’s feelings more? He had thought he had already... but in the end, hadn’t he just been angry and jealous and said things he shouldn’t?

He’d been screwing up completely, hadn’t he?

Crap. Double crap.

He got it now. He’d try to hold back his jealousy. He’d try not to get angry at Kimishita anymore. He wouldn’t call him names, and he wouldn’t insult him. He’d be right where he belonged, at Kimishita’s side, doing nice things for him and trying to make him feel better and showing he was there. It wasn’t bound to work. But if Usui was right, it was his best hope.

He’d try to become a better person, a better friend.

For Kimishita’s sake.


	8. Resolve

That night Ooshiba dreamed.

He dreamed of a time long past, a time when it had just been him and Kimishita, when there had been no Mizuki to get between them and mess everything up. He dreamed of a conversation they had back in the third year of middle school, not long after Kimishita had finally started calling him by his first name. He dreamed of what he had thought back then to be the worst day of his life, not knowing what would still await him in the years to come.

Back in the day he had desperately wanted a girlfriend. It had been the time when everyone around him had started dating, everyone except Kimishita, who made a wide berth around even the slightest mention of romance. Ooshiba, however, was on the lookout. Every time a girl looked or smiled at him or talked to him he got his hopes up, and every time nothing happened he grew more and more irritated. What was wrong with girls? Wasn’t he tall, athletic, rich and handsome and everything else girls wanted?

But nothing continued to happen, until fate had thrown him in with a girl from the track team, a quick-witted, light-hearted person who had quickly become his friend. They had spent more and more time together, and with every new day, every meeting Ooshiba’s hopes had grown, slowly turning into confidence that she liked him for sure. With every passing day he had grown more and more confident that they would become a couple soon, that it was only a matter of time until she asked him out and he could pretend to hesitate a little before happily saying yes.

And yet it never happened.

After all these days of wishing and hoping and waiting, Ooshiba had walked out to the track field to meet her as usual and found her holding hands with a guy he had never paid attention to before.

Smiling brighter than she ever had with him.

Ooshiba was thunderstruck. Without a single word he had spun around on his heel and marched off, his hopes, dreams and expectations shattering to pieces, the shards cutting into his chest and leaving bleeding gashes in his heart. And he had been so sure... so sure...

He didn’t remember much of practice after that. The only thing that had remained in his memory was the stinging, clenching feeling in the depths of his chest, a frustration and bitter disappointment he had never felt before. He remembered the lump in his throat, the hot tears stinging at the back of his eyes as he forced himself to be tough, all through practice, until at long last everyone had gone home, leaving him alone with Kimishita.

Green eyes met his own as Kimishita looked up from his locker, the frown on his face half annoyed, half concerned. “Everyone’s gone, idiot,” he said sharply. “You can stop pretending to be all right now.”

Ooshiba swallowed. Kimishita noticed, he realized. He had tried so hard to act normal and Kimishita had seen right through him anyway.

So what? That didn’t mean he had to tell the bastard what happened! It was none of his business anyway. And it wasn’t like Kimishita would understand, with the way that guy hated romance.

“I’m not pretending,” Ooshiba said stubbornly, straining hard to keep his voice from cracking.

“Not pretending, my ass!” Kimishita clicked his tongue and slammed the locker door shut. “You think I’m blind, huh? I swear, if you’re sick or injured and trying to hide it–”

Ooshiba turned away. The lump in his throat grew heavier. “I’m not.”

Kimishita sounded unconvinced. “Then what?”

“Why do you care?”

“ _Kiichi_.”

Ooshiba froze. Something about the way Kimishita said his name was different than usual. He sounded exasperated as always, exasperated and a little annoyed, but there was something else Ooshiba had never noticed before. A caring warmth that didn’t seem like the usual Kimishita at all.

“What happened?” Kimishita’s voice was quiet, a calm gentleness to his tone that hadn’t been there before, even as he glared at Ooshiba with continued irritation. “It’s just me, idiot. Unless you’re sick or injured, I won’t tell anyone what’s wrong.”

That was right. It was just Kimishita. No one else was around. He didn’t have to pretend around Kimishita.

The tears he’d been holding back all afternoon welled up in his eyes. With a furious curse he slammed his fists against the bench, barely feeling the pain against the bitterness tearing through his chest.

Kimishita listened as he told him what had happened, jumbled and fragmented, wiping at his eyes and sniffling and fighting with the disappointment, the injustice of it all that threatened to rip his heart to pieces. When Ooshiba fell silent Kimishita simply continued to look at him for a moment, his own expression strangely mirroring the way Ooshiba felt.

“So that’s what it was,” he said at last. “A girl, huh.”

“Yeah.” Ooshiba sniffled and tried to respond with a challenging glare, but his expression failed him. “You gotta problem with that? Not everybody hates women like you do!”

Kimishita gave a start. “I don’t–” he began to say, then he stopped short, blushing. “I never said anything, moron!”

“Shut up! You don’t get it!” Ooshiba wiped his eyes again, but his vision stayed blurry. “But it hurts... it really hurts in my chest...” He stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide, horror-struck. “Am I gonna die?”

“You won’t die from a bit of sadness, idiot,” Kimishita snapped, but for some reason he sounded almost amused, as if he was relaxing at last. “Strong emotional stress causes physical reactions in your chest. Muscle tightness, increased heart rate, shortness of breath. That’s all you’re feeling right now. You keeping those emotions bottled up for hours probably didn’t help either.”

Ooshiba looked up at him with bright hope in his eyes. His chest hurt a tiny bit less. “So it’s gonna get better?”

“It’s only a crush!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, looking irritably once more. “Even for an emotional idiot like you, I doubt it’ll last forever!”

“But what if it doesn’t get better? What do I gotta do to make it go away?”

Kimishita scowled at him, visibly uncomfortable. “Why are you asking  _me_  for emotional advice?”

“‘Cause you always know everything!” Ooshiba straightened up, fixing his gaze. “Tell me!”

“...Fine.”

With an exasperated sigh Kimishita walked over and sat down next to Ooshiba on the bench, his head low, staring straight ahead. For some reason he looked resigned, almost bitter. His voice was quiet as he continued, still not meeting Ooshiba’s eyes.

“Kiichi, what do you do when one of your tropical fish dies?”

\---

Ooshiba opened his eyes.

Why was he remembering that now?

\---

Usui’s words still lingered with Ooshiba as he left for school that day. His resolve was still fresh on his mind as he walked through the school gates, making his way towards the club room for morning practice, mentally preparing for whatever he would encounter today. No more lashing out at Kimishita, he told himself. That guy hadn’t fallen in love with Mizuki on purpose. It had just happened, and there was no point in yelling at him for it. On the contrary, that would just lower his chances of Kimishita ever liking him back.

He’d be a good friend. A better person. He’d be the hero Kimishita needed and show him he didn’t need Mizuki.

Kimishita was already there when Ooshiba walked into the room. He quickly glanced up when he heard the door open, then recognition crossed his face and he turned away again, quietly clicking his tongue. Ooshiba knew him well enough to see how upset he was.

_Right. He’s still pissed after yesterday._

Usually Ooshiba would get angry at him for that, but today he understood. He had gone about this all wrong, he knew that. But that was okay. Ooshiba wasn’t the same person he had been yesterday. He was a better version of himself now. Kimishita would see that, sooner or later.

“Good morning,” he said, coming to stand next to Kimishita and starting to stuff his bag into his own locker.

Kimishita stared stubbornly ahead and said nothing.

_Annoying!_

Ooshiba hated being ignored. No, that was an understatement. He couldn’t stand it. Even now that he knew Kimishita had a point, it was still getting under his skin.

_Be a good person. A good friend. Don’t get mad._

He breathed in and out, trying to shake off the irritation. He couldn’t pick a fight with Kimishita again. That was over. He was wiser now.

_Act nice. Like a good friend, a good person..._

How was he supposed to act? Someone nice and supportive... What would someone nice and supportive say in this situation?

What would Usui say? Tsukamoto? Hideki?

“You... okay?”

Kimishita still didn’t answer, but the flicker in his eyes, the way his movements stuttered for the blink of an eye betrayed his surprise. For a split second he almost looked ready to meet Ooshiba’s gaze and respond. Then his expression hardened, and he carried on as if nothing had happened.

Ooshiba clenched his fists. Just how mad was he? Kimishita never ignored him like that. The might not talk after fights sometimes, but Kimishita had never given him the cold shoulder when he tried to make up with him again.

_Did I really fuck up that bad? Shit, what do I do?_

His gaze flitted around, searching for a hint, someone who could clue him in. But Usui wasn’t here yet, and Ooshiba didn’t know who else to ask. Normally, whenever he needed advice, he’d always turn to Kimishita. But if Kimishita was the one he had a problem with, who else could help him?

 _Use your head,_  Kimishita’s voice resounded in his mind. He’d have to think for himself here. Something he wasn’t used to, especially off the pitch. How should he go about this? What should he do?

_A good person... a good friend..._

Screw this. He had no clue. But he knew Kimishita, and he knew he had to get through to him, somehow. Might as well go by gut feeling.

“Kimishita,” he said quietly, lifting his hand and gently resting it on his shoulder, forcing himself not to pull back again as Kimishita flinched and tensed up. “You okay?”

Kimishita’s body was tense, so tense Ooshiba thought he might try to run away at any second. But he didn’t move. He simply stood there, staring blankly ahead, his voice quiet and cold as he finally, finally spoke.

“What are you playing at, Kiichi?”

Ooshiba blinked, taken aback. “What do you–”

“You’re acting strange,” Kimishita answered, ice covering his voice, his eyes, his expression, cold, harsh and disappointed. “What is it this time? Trying to pick a fight and yell at me about jumbled bullshit again? What are you up to, huh?”

_You’re wrong._

Ooshiba gritted his teeth to push back the clenching feeling in his chest, the maddening, overwhelming desire to pull Kimishita into his arms and hold him close to his chest and bury his face in his hair until he forgot about everything. His mind was full of words, words that he wished he could say to Kimishita, but when he tried his throat closed up, leaving his face burning with embarrassment and shame.  _I don’t want you to be mad at me. I wanna make up with you. I wanna be there for you and be your friend and support you. I wanna be a better person. For you._

_I wanna see you happy. I want you to feel loved even though Captain doesn’t like you back._

Embarrassing. Awkward. Lame. He couldn’t say that.

Kimishita looked at him for a moment, trying to read his face. Then he clicked his tongue and turned away, slamming his locker shut with a bang that echoed through the club room.

“Fine,” he muttered, starting off towards the door. “Talk to me again when you’ve learned to make sense.”

 _Go after him!_  a voice whispered in Ooshiba’s head, lightning-fast and urgent. But just as he spun around to follow Kimishita, his eyes landed down on his shirt, his shoes, his school uniform. He still wasn’t changed. They’d never let him on the pitch like this.

So he turned back to his locker, changing out of his uniform and into his jersey, his body heavy, his head full. What should he tell Kimishita? As long as he didn’t know what to say, Kimishita wouldn’t listen to him. But what could he even say?  _By the way, I know about you and Captain and I know he doesn’t like you back and I don’t like you liking him but now I get that it’s not your fault and I wanna be your friend again and help you get over him?_

Damn it. Thinking was hard. Really hard. How did people like Kimishita do it all the time and not get a headache?

Should he just hug him, like he had wanted to just now?

He kicked that thought out of his head. That was even less of an option. He’d never admit how much he needed Kimishita’s touch, his affection, not to him and not to anyone else. He’d die of embarrassment before he tried. And even if he did try, Kimishita would probably scratch his eyes out in return.

Ooshiba sighed. He couldn’t do this. He had no clue how to go about this, and as long as he didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t talk to Kimishita again. Kimishita had made that clear enough.

Was it normal to miss someone who was only a few steps away? Because right now he did. He really did. Kimishita might only be warming up on the pitch, but from the way things were right now, he might as well be on the moon.

\---

Ooshiba didn’t try to catch up to Kimishita when running laps that morning. He didn’t try to pair up with him for warmups either. But he did watch him. Every second, every minute he had to spare, every moment he didn’t have to focus on something else, his eyes traveled across his teammates, across the field to Kimishita.

He watched as Kimishita darted ahead with the third-years when running laps, vanishing out of sight before Ooshiba could see who was running next to him. He watched as the team reassembled on the grass and Kimishita arrived side by side with Mizuki. He watched as Mizuki asked him to pair up for warmups, watched as Kimishita said something back to him and the captain shook his head and gave a thumbs-up, and Kimishita gave in with a slump and a sigh. He watched as the two of them practiced together, Mizuki as open and friendly as ever, Kimishita staying at arm’s length, awkwardly backing out as soon as he got in danger of being too close to the captain, guilt and shame drawn all over his face every time.

Ooshiba felt horrible, but he couldn’t look away. Every time Kimishita looked at Mizuki he felt a stab in his chest, and every time Kimishita glanced down at his feet with that obvious loneliness and pain in his eyes he felt like someone was twisting a knife in his heart. And yet he kept looking at them and didn’t even know why.

He had to step in. He had to help Kimishita. He was supposed to be a better person. He was supposed to be Kimishita’s friend. He needed to say something... but every time he tried to put his feelings into words that didn’t sound completely stupid, his mind came up blank.

Something... anything!

Damn it. What the hell should he say? Why was that idiot Kimishita even so mad at him? Sure, he’d been stupid, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t screwed up before! And Kimishita had never sulked for so long. He should just give him a chance and not just walk out on him, that stupid, stuck-up–

_Stop. Don’t get mad._

He had promised himself he wouldn’t, and that promise he’d keep. He wasn’t going to yell at Kimishita again. He wasn’t going to insult him either. He was a good person now. No more getting angry.

Ooshiba barely registered the voices around him, the whistle indicating the start of today’s first practice game. All he noticed was that they were on the same team again, he, Mizuki and Kimishita. And that meant Kimishita would probably spend the entire match passing to Mizuki again.

He wanted the ball too, dammit! He wanted to be the ace and score goals too! He wanted to stand out... and most of all, he wanted Kimishita’s attention too. Even though he knew Kimishita would just ignore him again today–

And then it hit him.

From one second to the next, he suddenly knew what to say.

Ooshiba didn’t hesitate. Without a second’s delay he sped out across the pitch, ignoring the ball, ignoring his teammates. “Kimishita!”

Kimishita didn’t turn, but he paused, listening.

“Kimishita!” Ooshiba called again, coming to a stop next to him, breathless and agitated. Before Kimishita could react he reached down and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around so they were standing face to face, locking his gaze with startled green eyes.

_A short, simple sentence. Two words._

“I’m here.”

A moment’s silence.

Kimishita’s eyes went wide. For a moment he gazed up at Ooshiba, surprised and speechless, the faintest glint of emotion glimmering in his eyes, fading in a second. His shoulders that had tensed under Ooshiba’s hands relaxed the tiniest bit. Then he sighed and lowered his head, his dark bangs falling into his face and obscuring his eyes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he said quietly, but the ice from his voice seemed to have melted and cracked. “I know that, idiot! Not like you’re easy to overlook.”

Ooshiba wanted to protest and argue that this wasn’t what he meant, but Kimishita’s expression made him stop short. The message had reached him, he realized.

The cold look on Kimishita’s face was gone. His hair was still in his eyes, and he looked far from happy, but there was no more disappointment in his expression, no more anger. And tugging at the corners of his mouth, almost too small to overlook, was the faintest hint of a tiny smile.


	9. Deceit

“I’m here.”

Kimishita stopped short. His train of thought stumbled and fell into nothing. He simply looked up at Kiichi with wide eyes, his words resonating in his mind.

_I’m here._  Such a short, simple sentence, and yet it had gone past all his anger and bitterness and disappointment and struck him into the very core. Kiichi had said so little, but there seemed so much behind it, so much that remained unspoken even though Kimishita understood.

So that was why he had acted strange all morning. That was why he had tried to talk to Kimishita at the lockers, acting so strange and awkward that only Kimishita’s lasting anger and pride had prevented him from asking if he had a fever. Kimishita wasn’t sure how or why, but he knew one thing for sure. Kiichi was trying to make up with him again, in his own stupid, awkward Kiichi way.

Kimishita lowered his head. He didn’t know what to feel, but Kiichi’s words touched him. They reminded him of days long past, when the two of them had been an unbeatable duo, on the pitch and off. They brought back a time he thought he had long forgotten, pushed away into the back of his mind and sealed off where it couldn’t slow him down as he kept moving forward.

_I’m here._

He had known Kiichi long enough to understand what that meant.  _Look at me. Pay attention to me._

If Kiichi had said this in any other way, Kimishita would have been angry again. He had been enough of a clingy, entitled attention whore these past few days. He had lashed out enough and thrown enough tantrums to last a lifetime. And that was why this plain, serious request made Kimishita stop in his tracks. He wasn’t lashing out anymore... he was more polite now, much more subtle.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kimishita said quietly, the tiniest smile playing with the corners of his mouth. “I know that, idiot! Not like you’re easy to overlook.”

_I am paying attention to you. And now that you’re not acting like a complete ass for the moment, I’ll give you what you’re asking for._

Kiichi’s face lit up. His eyes went big and round, shining and sparkling with a childlike excitement as a pink blush tinted his cheeks. His hands gave Kimishita’s shoulders a grateful squeeze. Spreading over his face, wide and happy and a little wobbly, was a big, goofy smile.

“Send me some passes!” he shouted as he let go of Kimishita’s shoulders, running back over the pitch. “I’m gonna score some goals and win this thing!”

“Don’t hit the goalpost again this time!” Kimishita yelled after him. Kiichi flipped him off. Kimishita watched as he sprinted on ahead and started off after the ball, navigating and calculating the ideal pass route when he got hold of it.

His heart felt strangely light, as if a great weight had been removed from his chest. It wasn’t completely gone yet. He still wasn’t sure if this newfound peace he had made with Kiichi would last, if he could trust him not to lash out and start yelling insults again at the first opportunity, but even now he could tell that Kiichi was acting different. He was reining in his temper... he was being  _considerate_.

Kiichi... considerate? That sounded almost absurd. And yet there was no other way to put his behavior. Asking if he was all right, quietly reminding him he was here, almost as if he was trying to reassure him–

No, he wouldn’t go there. Not anymore.

And yet, as he got hold of the ball and sent it flying towards Kiichi, he couldn’t help hoping that this would last.

\---

“Did you make up?”

Kimishita tensed up at the sound of the voice, stiffening as he turned around.  _Mizuki._

“Make up with who?” he asked distantly, as if he didn’t know exactly who Mizuki was talking about. There was only one person he could possibly mean. But... had they really been so obvious that even someone as dense as the captain had noticed?

Mizuki tilted his head in curiosity, pointing in the direction of a distinctive mop of red hair. “Ooshiba.”

“Apparently.” Kimishita shrugged. His eyes darted about, avoiding Mizuki’s gaze. “Why?”

Mizuki pulled his face into that frown he always wore when he was very deep in thought or seriously pondering a question. His gaze moved from Kimishita to Kiichi and back to Kimishita. “You looked like you had a fight,” he said. “I don’t like it when you fight. You always seem very  _tick-tick-tick_  when you do.”

Kimishita knew better than to ask what that meant.

“Not my fault if he acts like an idiot,” he said instead. “Kiichi needs to grow up. He can’t expect people to keep putting up with his bullsh– I mean...” His face turned red. “Never mind.”

Mizuki’s expression softened. “He likes you a lot.”

Kimishita blinked. Then he quickly looked down at the ground, his face hot, unsure how to respond or what to say. What was Mizuki talking about? Of course Kiichi cared about him, he knew that, but... why did Mizuki deem it important enough to tell him? Was he that worried? Had something happened between him and Kiichi? Knowing how Kiichi had been acting lately, it wasn’t unlikely. Had he tried to challenge Mizuki or something? Did his sudden change of attitude stem from there? Was that why Mizuki cared about them making up?

He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again. There was no way he could ask such a stupid question. Even if he was dying to know.

_If Kiichi has done something stupid, I swear..._

A thought shot through him like a lightning bolt. Kiichi hadn’t tried to get between him and Mizuki, had he?  _He likes you a lot..._  hearing that from a boyfriend usually meant–

_Stop._  He wasn’t going down that road again. Mizuki wasn’t a normal boyfriend, anyway. And Kiichi might have acted like a jealous five-year-old, but Kimishita was sure he didn’t know about their relationship, at the very least. The worst he could have done was possibly throw dirt on him as a player... no, that was the one thing Kiichi definitely wouldn’t do. Most likely he had just told Mizuki to stop hogging Kimishita’s attention and passes, if there had been any confrontation at all. That guy did have a soccer ball for a head.

_But did he talk to Captain...?_

Kimishita shook that thought off and decided that, as long as Mizuki didn’t start treating him differently, he had no reason to care.

“You know how he is,” he said evadingly. “Once he gets used to someone he’s hard to shake off.”

Mizuki gave him a long look, as if he wanted to reply something. But he didn’t. Instead he gave a slow nod and then a thumbs-up. “Good thing you made up. Don’t fight again.”

Kimishita blushed again, feeling an awful lot like a disobedient grade school child giving his teachers trouble. “No promises.”

That seemed to be enough for Mizuki, because he nodded again and gave Kimishita a gentle pat on the shoulder, the warmth of the touch lingering even after his hand was gone. “Good,” he said. “See you at lunch.”

Kimishita was left feeling like an idiot and he didn’t even know why.

\---

Today Kimishita beat Mizuki to the cafeteria. He was pretty much broke, and the cafeteria food was painfully overpriced, but after all the times Mizuki had bought him snacks he felt guilty not doing anything in return. So he dug up his last handful of coins, hoped he wouldn’t need money again until the beginning of the next month, and bought a melon bread. Since Mizuki was always getting them those he had to like them, right? He just hoped this was appropriate... Should he have bought more? After all, Mizuki had also–

A hand tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Kimishita jumped and spun around. If this was Mizuki who had found him then–

But it wasn’t Mizuki. It was Kiichi, one hand in his pocket, the other running through his hair, looking mildly confused and more than a little awkward.

Kimishita gave an involuntary sigh of relief. “What is it, Kiichi?”

Kiichi pulled out his wallet, opening it and pulling out a bill. “Get me something.”

Kimishita blinked at him with a confused scowl. “Huh?”

“From the cafeteria.” Kiichi gestured to the line he had just come from. “Get me something.”

“Ah? Don’t be stupid!” Kimishita clicked his tongue and threw a glance at his watch, impatience pulling at his nerves. He had to hurry up or he’d keep Mizuki waiting. “Go get it yourself!”

Kiichi pouted. “Don’t wanna.”

“I don’t care if you want to or not! Go drag your spoiled lazy ass over to the end of the line!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, preparing to bolt off as soon as he got rid of Kiichi. What was wrong with that guy? “I have somewhere to be!”

“Couple minutes are no big deal. You don’t gotta catch a train or some shit, right?” Kiichi pouted and shoved the bill into Kimishita’s hands before he could do anything to stop him. “Get me something! Keep the change.”

And with that he marched off, leaving Kimishita with no choice but to whisper a curse and line up again.

What was wrong with him? He had just acted a little considerate this morning and now he was back to being an idiot. Couldn’t that stupid spoiled brat just stand in line himself like a normal person? Couldn’t he see that Kimishita had somewhere to hurry to? He hadn’t even told Mizuki he was going to the cafeteria in the first place... What would Mizuki think? After making him go through so much trouble for him already he was making him wait too, for no reason other than this  _stupid, insensitive idiot–_

Hold on. Kiichi wasn’t trying to make him late  _on purpose_ , was he?

Kimishita clenched his fists, the bill crumpling in his hands. That bastard. That spoiled, entitled, self-centered bastard. What the hell was he still standing in line here for? He had more than half a mind to go out and grab him and–

His gaze fell down on the bill in his hands, and he almost dropped it. That... was definitely not the kind of bill you’d buy cafeteria snacks with. Hell, that was more money than Kimishita had counted in his wallet in this whole month!

_Keep the change, my ass!_

Even if Kimishita bought the single most expensive item this stupid cafeteria had, he’d still come out of this richer than he had been ever since he started high school. No way, this had to be a mistake. Kiichi must have meant to give him a smaller bill and not these innumerable riches.

Except... this was Kiichi.

Well, never mind. One way or another, he’d ask him when he was back. Which would hopefully be as soon as possible. If one single person in front of him had a large order or couldn’t decide, he would probably try to stab them.

_Wait for me, Captain. I got delayed here. I didn’t mean to make you wait, I promise._

Kimishita gave a breath of relief when it was his turn, his eyes flitting over all possible options before finally deciding on a large tomato sandwich, one of the expensive fresh ones, not the pre-packaged cheap things. He hesitated for a second, and then he bought a large box of chocolate cookies for Mizuki too. One melon bread and a box of cookies might still not be enough to repay him, but at least it was a start.

Slipping over the bill, Kimishita quickly collected the cartload of change, grabbed the sandwich and cookies, and hurried out of the line to search for Kiichi. Where the hell had that bastard gone off to? Shoving that bill in his face and disappearing like that... Damn it, where was he? Even if it was crowded, it wasn’t like Kiichi was easy to overlook in a crowd of people!

But no matter how hard he looked, Kiichi wasn’t there. He had gone off to goodness knew where without even bothering to wait for the food Kimishita had been supposed to get for him.

Kimishita’s eye twitched. That idiot... Who on earth did that?

_Wait._

The awkward look... the strange request... the suspiciously large bill... the disappearance... and he hadn’t even clarified what he wanted from the cafeteria in the first place...

Could it be... Had Kiichi noticed that he was broke and tricked him into accepting a huge load of money and an expensive snack that Kimishita wouldn’t even have dared to touch otherwise?

Was he reading too much into this? Kiichi was an idiot, after all. And he was arrogant, selfish...

...and kind. Generous even, if he wanted to be.

_He likes you a lot._

Kimishita shook his head. He didn’t understand the first thing. Not about Kiichi, and not about Mizuki.

What was the meaning of all this?

\---

“Oh. There you are.”

Kimishita came to a stumbling, staggering halt, gasping and panting for breath as he made his way over to his desk, where Mizuki was already sitting and waiting. Guilt was eating away at him. He was late, way too late. What must Mizuki be thinking? He had screwed up again... And when Mizuki was trying so hard to be a good boyfriend and eat lunch with him every day, just because he thought Kimishita expected him to! Had he been wondering if Kimishita would show up at all? Had he asked himself if Kimishita had disappeared on him again, like the day after the confession? What if–

“Sorry I’m late,” he gasped out, reaching for a chair and more or less collapsing in it. “I just wanted to get you something from the cafeteria... and then... I got delayed...”

Mizuki simply tilted his head in curiosity. “Get me something?”

“Y-Yes.” Damn it, why was Kimishita blushing again? Why couldn’t he just talk to Mizuki for two minutes without blushing like an idiot? “As... In return for all the snacks you got me all week. It... isn’t much, but...” He looked down and pushed the melon bread and cookies across the desk into Mizuki’s hands.

There was a rustle as Mizuki picked them up, examining them in his hands. “Kimishita...” he said quietly, wide-eyed surprise in his voice. “Thank you.”

Damn it, not that tone. That tone was making him weak.

“Don’t thank me!” Kimishita snapped, his face feeling even warmer than before. “I just thought it wasn’t fair that you were the one buying me all the snacks! I hate owing people is all.”

_Says the fucking idiot who owes his useless crush more than he could ever return. And went into this mess fully knowing this would happen._

“So...” He swallowed, feeling very small and somehow stupid. “If there’s any way I can pay you back... for all your troubles... please tell me and I’ll do what I can.”

“Don’t worry.”

Mizuki opened the melon bread wrapper with a rustle and took a big bite. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s not that much trouble.”

“But–”

“Kimishita.”

Kimishita looked up. Mizuki’s voice was warm and gentle, but there was something to it that made him stop short, unable to talk back or protest.

“You don’t owe me.” Mizuki looked straight into his eyes, his dark gaze as deep and unfathomable as ever, his hand warm as it found Kimishita’s and rested on top of it. “I’m doing this because I owe you.”

Kimishita jumped up. “Wha–”

“I’m not doing this to get something back,” Mizuki continued, silencing him with one dark-eyed look. “Except happiness. If you want to pay me back, be happy, Kimishita. Be a happy boyfriend.”

Something cold and heavy settled deep in Kimishita’s chest, as if he had choked on a giant lump of ice. Be a happy boyfriend... happy with Mizuki... that was the one thing he couldn’t do. He couldn’t pay him back.

Did Mizuki know? Was he aware that Kimishita knew this was all a lost cause, that he’d never stood a chance and never would?

_I can’t do that. Not when I know you don’t love me._

He should say it, he knew that. But as he looked at Mizuki’s face, the serious, caring look in his eyes, his warm hand still resting on his own, he couldn’t bring himself to utter a single word. He didn’t have the heart. Not when Mizuki was meaning so well, trying so hard, believing so firmly that everything would be all right, not when Mizuki had already done so much for him just for that belief and Kimishita couldn’t even do the one single thing he ever expected in return.

So he forced a mask on his face to hide his true feelings and sat back down, reaching for the stupid tomato sandwich that should have been Kiichi’s. “I’ll try,” he muttered blankly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Maybe he should start working on his acting skills.

\---

All throughout the rest of the day Kimishita pretended to be fine. All throughout afternoon practice he tried to talk to Mizuki normally, forcing himself to channel the feeling he’d had during his brief moment of hope that his love might actually be requited, holding his head high, wearing a proud smirk and talking more than he had all day combined, forcing out one sharp, pointed remark after the next. The others seemed to buy it. There were whispers again, but he tuned them out. Mizuki looked happy, and that was the most important thing. Even if Mizuki wasn’t happy for the reason Kimishita wished he was, he was still glad to put a small smile on his face and pay back at least a tiny little part of his troubles.

But on the inside he felt hollow. Completely void. Drained of everything.

He was tired. He wanted to go home. His mask was getting heavy. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up, pretending to be fine when it was all nothing but a cheap lie based on kindness and cowardice. Just like their whole fake relationship.

By the time practice was over, he could barely stand on his feet anymore. His head felt empty and too heavy at the same time. He didn’t speak to anyone anymore. He just changed back into his school uniform, told Mizuki something about having to hurry home, and slipped out before anyone else could try to speak to him again.

He wasn’t aware of Kiichi watching him from the corner of his eye, a knowing, concerned expression written all over his face.


	10. Selfless

Ooshiba dropped off his bag at home and didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform before turning on his heel and running out again. He wasn’t even sure what he had been thinking when he had come here in the first place. He should have gone after Kimishita... He wasn’t sure what had happened, but Kimishita had looked like he could really, really, really use a friend.

But Kimishita had also looked like he didn’t want to talk to anyone, so Ooshiba had let him go and come here. A decision that seemed stupid to him now. The more he thought about it, the more Kimishita had looked like he was trying to suffer alone, hiding inside himself when he desperately needed someone to comfort him, to support him and help him deal with whatever it was that had made him look so out of it earlier. Why hadn’t Ooshiba gone after him at once? Even if he hurried up now, Kimishita would still have been all alone for almost forty-five minutes!

And after he’d been so obviously faking to be fine too, Ooshiba thought as he ran along the streets, speeding up even as his sides stung and the cold air bit his lungs. He had no idea why Kimishita had been pretending to be happy, but it had been such an obvious lie. The others must have fallen for it, but Ooshiba could tell.

_Kimishita... What are you going through by yourself?_

He stumbled over the curbstone, caught himself and kept running. He ran over a red light, narrowly avoiding a crash with a car, and still he kept racing, speeding, stumbling on, never slowing down, never stopping to catch his breath. Kimishita... he had to get to Kimishita...

It felt like way too long when Kimishita’s house finally came in sight, way too late when Ooshiba finally came to a stumbling, staggering, gasping halt, only stopping momentarily to regain his breath and get some oxygen back into his dizzy, air-deprived brain.

He straightened up, ran a hand through his hair, and stepped inside, walking straight towards the cash desk.

Kimishita didn’t look up as his footsteps approached. He was sitting in his usual place, bent low over a magazine instead of the usual homework, his head propped up on one hand, the glasses half slipping off his face. He looked tired and drained, but most of all he looked like someone who had gone through insufferable pain alone.

“Hey,” Ooshiba said weakly.

Kimishita threw a split second’s glance at him, then he flinched and looked back down at his magazine, staring emptily at the pages, visibly pretending to read.

Ooshiba swallowed, took a step forward and extended a hand, trying to reach towards him. “Kimishita–”

Kimishita whipped around. Faster than lightning his hand shot up, slapping Ooshiba’s hand away with sharp precision.

“What do you want?” he hissed coldly, his voice strained, barely kept together. “Hurry up with it and get out. I’m busy.”

_What do I want?_  Ooshiba thought, clenching his fists as he looked down at Kimishita, taking in the look of tension on his face, the empty, hollow exhaustion in his eyes.  _I want you to not look like this! I wanna be there for you... I wanna let you know I care! I wanna let you know you’re loved and you’re way too good for Captain and–_

–and he could never say any of that out loud.

“I, uh...” His eyes darted about, searching for an excuse even as he felt like an idiot. “I... need new cleats.”

Kimishita frowned. “You just got a new pair.”

“I need a spare one.”

Kimishita glanced at him through a strand of his hair, then he sighed and continued staring at his magazine again. Ooshiba raked a hand through his hair, turned, and made his way over to the display of cleats, numbly searching for a pair his size, trying on the few he found, and finally going with the same brand he always bought, but in a different color. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he made his way back to the cash desk, standing quietly in front of Kimishita and wondering what to say.

“Planning to grow roots there?”

Ooshiba jumped. Forcing himself not to get angry and snap something back, he stumbled forward and placed the cleats down on the desk, searching through his wallet for the money.

“Hold on,” Kimishita said, fiddling with the register. “I’ll give you a discount.”

Ooshiba blinked. “What?”

“For earlier,” Kimishita said impatiently. “Lunch. You gave me too much money, you moron!”

For someone as smart and sharp-witted as Kimishita, Ooshiba couldn’t believe how dense this guy could be.

“I didn’t give you too much!” he shouted on impulse, his face heating up as his emotions burst out of him before he could think or stop them. “I gave you that much  _on purpose!_  Don’t you fucking dare give me a single yen back, you stupid piece of shit!”

Kimishita gaped at him. “What the–”

Before Ooshiba could reply, understanding crept over Kimishita’s face, and his baffled expression turned into an irritated glare. “Idiot,” he growled. “What did you do that for? Pitying me, huh?”

“I...” Crap, what should he reply? One wrong move, and he’d be kicked out of here leaving Kimishita even worse off than before! “I just... saw you spent your last cash on Captain,” he admitted awkwardly. “So I wanted to help...” His face was burning, but he forced himself to continue looking at Kimishita, meeting that insulted, accusing green glare with his eyes. “Problem?”

Kimishita held his gaze for a moment, then he broke off eye contact, looking back down at the cash register with a sigh. “Captain again, huh?”

There was something strange in his eyes, as if Ooshiba’s words had stirred up emotions that he was struggling hard to hide. His body was tense, his hands almost shaking as he removed the tag from the cleats, tapped something into the old calculator at his side, scribbled something down, and turned to the cash register that sprang open with a metallic ring. His voice had that oddly strained sound again. “That’ll be–”

“I know,” Ooshiba replied, pushing a handful of bills into Kimishita’s hand. It was cold, he realized, and before he knew it he lingered for a few moments before pulling away, his chest tying into knots at the touch. “Here.”

“The discount–”

“No discount. I insist.”

“I’m telling you, stop pitying m–”

“ _Please!_ ”

Ooshiba took a step back and bowed low, so low his forehead almost hit the desk. He didn’t have to swallow his pride this time. He didn’t have to hesitate. He was desperate. Desperate to do something for Kimishita, anything, to be able to be a good friend like he had told himself to. He had promised himself.

“It’s not that much money for me,” he added quietly, still not looking up. “You take it.” He swallowed. “If you really wanna pay me back then buy some stuff for yourself too. Not just for Captain. It’s your money.”

“...Idiot.”

Kimishita sighed and clicked his tongue, but he took the money and sorted it into the cash register. “Since you insist, fine, I’ll put up with your pity bullshit this once. But this is the last time.” In a much quieter voice, so quiet that Ooshiba had to strain to catch the words, he added, “I get pitied more than enough already.”

_Captain again. This is Captain’s fault._

Ooshiba clenched his jaw, shaking off the anger beginning to boil up inside him. Usui’s words echoed in his mind, Mizuki’s, Kimishita’s. Mizuki thought he was doing the right thing. Kimishita didn’t need or want someone who got angry and caused more drama. He had to behave. Even if it was hard... even if he felt like he was about to explode... he had to endure. At all costs.

Pity... What was Kimishita even talking about? This wasn’t pity. He had never pitied Kimishita in his life! This was, this was... what was it? He didn’t know a word. All he knew was the feeling, the constant unquenchable desire to do something for him, something nice, try to make him happy in any way possible.

“I don’t pity you,” he said at last, his voice quiet and stubborn.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “That’s what they all say! Trust me, idiot, I know pity when I see it.” He stuffed the box of cleats into a bag and handed it over the counter. “There. Now take this and get out!”

He sat back down and resumed to stare sightlessly at the magazine. Ooshiba took the bag in his hands, but he didn’t budge. His eyes rested on Kimishita.

He wanted to say something. No, he needed to say something. But what? What could he possibly say that Kimishita would listen to?

He couldn’t think of anything... his mind was blank. He should probably leave. If he stayed here any longer, Kimishita would notice and snap at him. He looked and sounded like he really, really wanted to be alone right now... Maybe Ooshiba should respect it.

He looked at Kimishita again, that hollow gaze, the exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in every part of his face, the way his hands were balled up into fists even as he rested. He looked at the bottled-up emotion hidden so thinly behind that cold, exhausted façade and couldn’t bring himself to move.

After all, how could he leave Kimishita when he looked so much like a house of cards, ready to fall down and collapse on himself at the slightest breath of wind?

_You deserve better than that, Kimishita. I wanna see you better than this. I want you to be happy, because somebody who’s as strong and smart and awesome as you deserves to be happy, you stupid jerk!_

This wasn’t even about him anymore, he realized. He wasn’t trying to win Kimishita’s love with this. He just couldn’t bear to see him so unhappy, because Kimishita mattered to him, because he was important to him as a person, beyond anything that mere feelings of friendship or even romantic love could explain. He needed him to be happy, or he couldn’t be happy himself.

“Kimishita,” he said softly, setting the bag down on the ground and reaching for the hand that lay balled up on the desk, gripping it tightly. “You...”

Kimishita looked up with a defensive glare, countless emotions mixing in his eyes, annoyance, sadness, exasperation, pain and so much exhaustion that he looked like someone who had been battling a long and serious illness for years, all the while pretending to be all right in public. His voice was starting to crumble. “What else?”

"You’re not okay.”

Kimishita flinched. Something in his face shut down, cutting off the vulnerable emotions reflecting in his expression. “Well, no shit!” he snapped, turning away and refusing to look Ooshiba in the eyes, dark hair falling over his forehead and cheekbones and obscuring his face. “I’ve had a stressful fucking day! So if you could  _kindly_  grab your cleats and get the fuck out of here–”

“ _No!_ ”

Kimishita froze for a second, then he pulled his hand out of Ooshiba’s grip. Ooshiba wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn his shoulders were shaking. “Get out,” he tried to hiss, but it turned into a desperate whisper, almost a plea. “Hurry up. Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”

Ooshiba didn’t move an inch. His fists were clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Kimishita needed help. But he would never tell him what was going on by himself. Kimishita would die before he forced himself to talk about his feelings.

That left only one option. Ooshiba had to tell him the truth. No matter what the reaction would be.

“I know,” he said quietly. “About you and Captain.”

Kimishita turned to stone.

Very, very slowly, he turned around and stood up, staring straight into Ooshiba’s eyes. His body tensed up as if he was preparing to run or attack him at any second. His eyes were too wide and too bright, filled to the brim with alarm.

“So?” he growled, snatching Ooshiba’s shirt and yanking him down, a dangerous glow in his eyes. “Planning to blackmail me now or what, huh?”

Ooshiba lowered his head. “No.”

“Then  _what?_ ”

“It’s just...” Ooshiba’s face felt hot. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away, feeling his whole body burn with embarrassment. This was difficult, really difficult. He wasn’t used to saying things like this... but he had to say it. For Kimishita, he had to say it.

“It’s just...” he started again, pouty and awkward. “If you need somebody to talk about it... I’m here. My folks always say it helps to talk about shit that bothers you, so... uh...”

Very, very slowly, Kimishita let go of Ooshiba’s shirt.

Ooshiba swallowed and looked up, looked back at Kimishita’s face and almost gasped. The anger was gone. There was no more alarm in his eyes, no more fear and suspicion. The only thing left behind was surprise, surprise and stunned amazement.

For a moment they just looked at each other, at a loss for words, both equally confused and overwhelmed by the whole situation. Then, little by little, Kimishita’s composure came back. His posture relaxed, and he gave a snort as he met Ooshiba’s eyes with a taunting smirk.

“Never thought I’d hear that from you, Kiichi,” he remarked. “What, did you finally reach enlightenment?”

Ooshiba’s face flushed red, but he couldn’t get angry. Not when Kimishita almost looked like himself again, not when he was so relieved and happy he could cry.

“Stuff happened,” he said vaguely, hoping that his expression wouldn’t reveal the million cheesy things he was feeling, resisting the urge to jump over the counter and tackle Kimishita to the ground with a hug.

“Stuff, huh? Like the one time you were nice to everyone for a whole match after you were promised to be captain?” There was an amused glint in Kimishita’s eyes. “What did they promise you for being nice to me?”

“Nothing... This is different!” Ooshiba’s face still turned redder. “I just wanna help you, asshole!”

Kimishita sighed and tapped a fist against his shoulder before sitting back down with a shake of his head. “If you insist,” he said. “I guess I’ll get back to you when I feel like it. Happy now, dumbass?”

Ooshiba couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face. “Yup.”

“All right, then go home!” Kimishita gestured towards the door. “Don’t need two people manning the store! Look at you, you’re not even changed out of your uniform!”

“I like my uniform,” Ooshiba lied.

“Would be nice if that was true, maybe then you could start wearing it properly!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, but the amused glint hadn’t quite disappeared from his eyes. “Get your stupid ass home before your parents report you as missing!”

Ooshiba scowled and flipped him off, but he picked up the bag and turned to leave. “See you tomorrow, asshole.”

“As always, imbecile.” Kimishita went back to his magazine, then after a moment he glanced up again as Ooshiba stepped through the doorway.

“Oh, and Kiichi?”

“What?”

Kimishita’s head was bowed so low that Ooshiba couldn’t see his face as he turned, but his voice was quiet, embarrassed and unusually warm.

“Thank you.”

\---

Kimishita tried to read the magazine where he had left off, but he still couldn’t focus. But this time it wasn’t because he felt drained, or empty, or lonely and heartbroken. A small part of those feelings was still there, lingering in the back of his mind, but he could deal with them now. He felt like he had just been revived, and he didn’t even understand what happened.

Kiichi knew about him and Mizuki. Kimishita hadn’t asked how, and right now he didn’t care much. All he knew was that he must have known almost since the beginning... because then his strange behavior from the past few days would start making a lot of sense.

Kiichi knew he and Mizuki were a couple. Kiichi knew he was hopelessly in love with Mizuki, and Mizuki didn’t reciprocate. That was why he’d been so angry. That was why he had acted so cryptic, lashing out and claiming ownership over Kimishita these past few days, being uncharacteristically kind and honest and supportive today.

Kiichi knew. That was a relief beyond anything he could have imagined.

Kimishita wasn’t planning to take him up on his offer. He still hated talking about feelings, and he didn’t think he could explain his emotions to Kiichi if he tried. Either way he would die from extreme mortification, and yet the simple offer, the mere knowledge that he could go and vent to someone if it all became too much, made him feel a million times better. He wasn’t alone in this. Even if he didn’t talk about it, Kiichi was there for him, looking out for him like he always had.

_I’m here._

_Yes, you are,_  Kimishita thought, a small smile crossing his face.  _You’ve always been here, Kiichi. I’d be the last person not to notice that._

And yet there was something strange to the feeling, something that made Kimishita want to laugh bitterly at the irony of it all. The way Kiichi acted now, the way he treated him... He was almost glad he hadn’t done the same thing two years ago. His past self would have been swept off his feet, unable to think of anything but Kiichi’s kind words and loyalty all afternoon, all evening until he went to sleep. But he was older now, wiser. He knew how to handle this idiot’s ridiculous whims and over-the-top kindness.

After all, he had learned his lesson the day he had comforted Kiichi about his first heartbreak.

“Kiichi, what do you do when one of your tropical fish dies?”

Kiichi had looked at him with wide eyes, forgetting to sniffle as he blinked with surprise. “I... get a new one,” he said slowly.

“Exactly,” Kimishita had replied, looking away to hide the emotion bottled up inside him, the bitter frustration and cold, painful, unsurprised disappointment. “If you can’t keep it, you get a replacement. And it’s the same with people who break your heart.”

Kiichi had continued to look at him in puzzlement, and Kimishita had sighed, pretending to be calm, acting as if his words had no meaning, especially not for himself.

“You replace them and move on.”

And so he had done.


	11. Laces

“Oh, it’s you.” Usui smiled as he put down the book he’d been reading, holding the phone closer to his ear. “How rare of you to call on a school night. What’s the matter, Mizuki?”

“Hmm...” Mizuki made a sound as if he was thinking very hard, and Usui could just picture him sitting in his room, his brow furrowed as he set all the gears in his brain into motion at once. “Usui?”

Usui hid a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Have you ever dated someone before?”

Usui blinked. For a second he was taken aback by the unusual question, then he put two and two together, and understanding struck him. “Oh,” he said, his smile fading a little. “This is about Kimishita, isn’t it?”

Mizuki didn’t respond to that question. “Have you?”

“I guess you could say so.” Usui chuckled at the persistence, a faint smile resting on his face as he remembered his various encounters. “Never anything serious or long-term though. Why?”

Mizuki gave another thoughtful hum. “Then you’ve been in love before?”

Yes, this was definitely about Kimishita. “Well,” Usui said casually, “I’ve had feelings for people before, if that’s what you mean. But I’m not sure I’ve ever  _really_  been in love.”

“How does it feel like?”

Mizuki’s questions were getting so persistent and straightforward that Usui couldn’t help giving a small laugh. No one else he knew would have the courage to ask questions like these so directly, nobody except children.

“It’s not easy to describe,” he admitted. “I think it feels different for everyone, but... I guess you know when you fall in love, or most people do.”  _Unless you’re as dense as Shiba and take years,_  he added in his head. “And... you know. You feel drawn to the person. You want to spend time with them, be close to them...”

Mizuki sounded deep in thought. “So, like a friend?”

“Not quite.” Usui had to hide another laugh. “You see, when you’re in love with someone, you want to do things with them that you wouldn’t do with a friend.”

Mizuki paused for a moment at that, obviously thinking, and when he spoke again he sounded more confused than ever. “Things you wouldn’t do with a friend?” Usui could almost hear him tilt his head in question. “Like what?”

It was clear as day that the concept seemed completely alien to him.

“Like...” Usui pondered his reply for a moment, trying to figure out how to keep his answer both clear and Mizuki-safe. “Like holding hands, or kissing, or cuddling, or going on dates, or some things you’re too young to learn about.” He smiled. “Some displays of affection are off-limits if you’re just friends, you see?”

Mizuki was silent for a very long moment. Then he made a small noise of understanding, and Usui knew that the information had made it through to him.

“Displays of affection...” he mused quietly, then he turned straightforward once more.

“Usui, what do people expect from a boyfriend?”

\---

_Look happy._

Kimishita swallowed and braced himself, forcing down the sense of dread as he threw a glance at the club room door, waiting for Mizuki to arrive. Whatever he did, he had to pretend everything was okay, just like he had yesterday. It had worked fine. It had been draining, sure, but there was no doubt he’d get used to it eventually. All he had to do was hang in there until he managed.

Somehow.

He thought back to yesterday, remembering the strain his façade had put on him, the stress, the exhaustion. He thought back to how drained and empty he had felt by the time practice ended. And that had just been afternoon practice. Today he’d have to go around pretending for the entire day, and he had no idea how he could make it. He didn’t want to do this. He was dreading to do this. He wished there was some way to get out of this mess, but he couldn’t find one.

He thought back to his conversation with Kiichi yesterday, their confrontation, the offer. Kiichi would keep an eye on him, he knew now. Kiichi was in on the secret... if he felt like he didn’t have the strength to continue faking he could go to him until he felt better. He could vent to him, just like Kiichi had told him he could.

Technically. He wouldn’t do it, of course. He’d rather die than vent about his feelings to the very idiot who had given him his first heartbreak.

And yet, as he looked around and met eyes with Kiichi, he felt a little more safe knowing that there was someone here that he didn’t have to lie to, someone he didn’t have to keep any secrets from. One less person to pretend to be fine to when he was already cracking at the edges... someone he might rely on if he needed an excuse to quickly get away from everyone else and take a break from the pretense.

_Do you get that, Kiichi? If I look like I can’t bear it anymore, you have every permission to distract them or get me out of here._

If Kiichi had got the message, he didn’t show it. He simply looked into Kimishita’s eyes and then glanced down, something akin to compassion and sadness reflected in his gaze. He looked much like he had during his visit to the store yesterday, and Kimishita didn’t know what to make of it. Was the imbecile really that worried?

He snorted. As if. It had to be something else, and Kimishita didn’t bother asking himself about everything inexplicable that went on in the empty windings of his stupid head.

Kiichi turned away and started talking to Satou and Suzuki, and Kimishita busied himself with his cleats, tying his shoelaces as tightly as he could and not looking at the club room door for a moment. He still didn’t look when he was finished with his shoelaces. He simply continued to stare at his cleats, taking in all the little details, examining every seam and every tiny scratch. The leather was starting to wear off on his right foot again, he’d have to do something about that later. And that scratch on his left heel, he had no idea where that came from. So troublesome. Equipment was a pain to look after. Why couldn’t they make it the same quality but easier to maintain? And cheaper too, while they were at it? Not everyone had that kind of time and money–

“Kimishita?”

Kimishita almost jumped off the bench.

“Captain,” he gasped out, whipping around and staring at Mizuki with wide eyes, who didn’t seem at all aware that he had just scared the living daylights out of him. “What the fu– Don’t appear out of thin air all of a sudden!”

Mizuki looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Forget it.” Kimishita sighed and clicked his tongue before remembering that he had to appear calm and happy. “Did you want anything?”

Mizuki pointed to his feet. “My shoelaces.”

“...What?”

“Can you tie them for me?”

Kimishita looked from Mizuki’s face to his untied shoelaces and back to Mizuki’s face. He could just feel himself going pink again. “What the–?!” he stuttered out, looking anywhere and everywhere but at Mizuki, nervously searching for an excuse, a way out of this strange situation. “You can’t tie your own shoelaces?” Mizuki shook his head. “But– but– doesn’t someone else usually tie your shoelaces?” Kimishita’s eyes darted around. “Where’s Usui-senpai?”

Mizuki pointed towards the club room door. “He said he wanted to talk to Coach.”

Kimishita’s eye twitched. He was more than half convinced that Usui had excused himself and disappeared on purpose. Usui Yuuta was definitely the sneaky type to do that.

“What about Inohara-senpai? Haibara-senpai?”

Mizuki shrugged. “I haven’t seen them yet.”

Kimishita was breaking in a cold sweat. He had run out of excuses. His face felt insufferably red. For some reason it felt like the whole club room was staring at him. Clicking his tongue, he lowered his head and knelt down, taking Mizuki’s shoelaces in his hands, careful not to brush his fingers against the leather of his cleats, the feet that had scored so many more winning goals than anyone could count. The same feet that had run so many miles over the years, many more than anyone else, taking a steady path to victory.

Kimishita looked away. His face felt too hot. What was he thinking? Those stupid, unnecessary thoughts again... All he was supposed to do was try to tie this idiot’s shoelaces because this overgrown child couldn’t do it himself after almost eighteen years of life and three godforsaken years of soccer!

And yet... as he sat there, the stupid shoelaces in his hands, tying them into a tight bow... he couldn’t stop the urge to run his fingers along those shoes, those feet, those ankles and legs... couldn’t stop the urge to take them in his hands, lean down, kiss them...

_Stop it. Stop!_

Why did he have to keep thinking those things? He was in public, for crying out loud! And even if they were alone, he couldn’t do this. Having Mizuki go out with him out of kindness and pretending to be happy was one thing. Asking him to go along with his useless, unnecessary cravings for affection was another thing entirely! How much longer until he finally got that into his stupid, desperate, incorrigible head?

_Play it cool. Pretend you’re doing fine. He’ll get worried._

The bow turned out lopsided and untied itself. Kimishita whispered a curse under his breath, fiddling with the shoelaces to tie them again. The bow came out looking awkward again, but at least it would hold, hopefully. Kimishita swallowed, nodded and wiped his hands on his pants, but they still felt clammy and sweaty.

_Pretend you’re fine._

“Done,” Kimishita said as casually as possible, standing back up. “Learn to tie them yourself next time.”

Mizuki looked down at his feet and gave an approving nod, either not noticing how awkward his shoelaces looked or deciding to ignore it, and without warning extended his hand to grab and squeeze Kimishita’s. “Thank you.”

Kimishita returned the squeeze, just firmly enough to appear steady and composed, but on the inside he was clinging to Mizuki’s hand, absorbing the touch, the feeling, the tight grip and the warmth and steadiness into his very core like a starving man desperately gulping down the first crumbs of bread he’d had in weeks. It was over too soon, and he was left craving, craving for more, his hand tingling with the lingering warmth of Mizuki’s hand, the urge to reach out and grab it again and hold on as long as he needed to until the strange feeling of starvation was gone.

“You’re welcome, Captain,” he said, trying to give a slight smirk while asking himself if Mizuki would notice it was fake. It wasn’t like him to smile while saying something like this, was it? His usual self would click his tongue and scowl, maybe blush and avert his gaze... Was he being too obvious? No, he definitely was... Would Mizuki notice? Even he couldn’t be that dense, right?

But Mizuki didn’t seem to notice. He only returned the smile, just slightly and just for a second, but it was enough to both make Kimishita’s insides twist and make the fear inside him tumble down and collapse to leave only relief behind. He’d managed, somehow. He had managed to fool Mizuki so far, even if he wasn’t sure how.

Mizuki gave a brief nod and started off towards the door, and Kimishita almost watched him leave before remembering that Mizuki was probably expecting him to follow, that a happy boyfriend wouldn’t just stand there and stare like an idiot as the person he loved went ahead. Straightening his back, he hurried up and fell into stride next to the captain, following him towards the pitch without meeting his eyes or saying a word.

They walked next to each other for a while, then something warm brushed against Kimishita’s hand, and before he knew what was happening Mizuki’s hand had curled around his, running a thumb over the back of his hand and intertwining their fingers. With an idiotic gasp he stopped walking and spun around, staring at Mizuki, then at their joined hands with a mixture of gratitude, desire, mortification and blank panic.

“You...” His calm, content façade cracked at the edges. “What are you doing?”

Mizuki looked down at their intertwined fingers, then back up at Kimishita, blinking at him as if he had just asked the strangest question in history. “Holding your hand.”

“I can see that!” No good. Kimishita was starting to panic, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “But why here and now?”

Mizuki tilted his head. “Is there a problem? Do you...” His face turned concerned, almost worried even.

“Do you...not like holding hands?”

Mizuki loosened his grip, and on instinct Kimishita tightened his hold, almost clinging to Mizuki’s hand even as his eyes darted about like a cornered animal’s, searching for anyone who might pass by and see them. But there was no one, and so he held on to Mizuki’s hand, secretly relishing the rare opportunity for as long as he could.

“That’s not it!” he hissed, trying to keep his eyes and ears everywhere at once. “We’re in public, you know! Anyone could see us!”

Understanding dawned on Mizuki’s face. “Oh. Right. You don’t want people to know we’re together.”

Kimishita gave a quiet nod. For some reason he felt a little guilty about it now.

“Why though?”

Kimishita glanced up to find Mizuki still looking at him with curiosity in his eyes, all his attention focused on him, his expression soft and gentle and his palm still pressed up against Kimishita’s, warm and reassuring. His insides gave a twist. His past self would have died for a moment like this. And yet, right now there were so many feelings mixing in his chest that he couldn’t even look Mizuki in the eye.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you not like people knowing?” Mizuki asked in that same quiet, thoughtful, considerate tone. “Or do people not tell others when they’re dating?”

Something inside Kimishita slumped.  _He’s just doing this because he has to, again._  “No,” he said, pretending to be calm. “I don’t like people getting all up in my personal business is all. Especially my love life.” He didn’t add that people knowing would definitely bring their reputation in jeopardy too. And Mizuki was a soon-o-be soccer pro; if someone found out he was dating his teammate it might even damage his career. Better if nobody knew. But he knew Mizuki wouldn’t listen to that if he explained it to him.

Mizuki gave a nod and resumed walking. Kimishita followed with a heavy feeling, knowing full well that they’d soon have to let go of each other’s hands again, even if he also knew he should be grateful to have been able to hold Mizuki’s hand for so long in the first place. He couldn’t believe nobody had interrupted their conversation while they stood here, short as it had been.

They came close to the pitch and untangled their fingers, slowly pulling away without saying a word. Mizuki gave a slight smile. Kimishita tried to smile back. He wasn’t sure it looked convincing.

“Let’s do this more when we get the chance,” Mizuki said casually, sounding so natural that if Kimishita didn’t know better, he almost would have believed he wanted this too.

_Look happy,_  Kimishita told himself and forced his smile to widen a little. He just hoped it didn’t look like a complete grimace. “Yeah.”

Part of him was happy. But he was still dreading the next time he’d be alone with Mizuki.

\---

The day passed in a blur, a mess of forcing himself to look content, of overthinking and fretting over his façade and wondering if people noticed, if Mizuki noticed, what he would do if he did. Telling the truth would probably be the simplest solution. But Mizuki was trying so hard. He was trying harder than ever. Even if he had the courage to tell him, he could never have the heart.

So Kimishita tried too. He tried to talk more. He tried to smile. He tried to act like a happy boyfriend and pretend his heart didn’t sink every time he was alone with Mizuki, every time an awkward silence fell between them and he didn’t know what to say. He tried not to show how much energy it was draining from him, how much strength it cost him to keep up the lie for not only an hour of practice but a whole day of school, relaxing only when he was sure nobody from the team was watching him. When he wasn’t talking to Mizuki he put his all into soccer and schoolwork, trying to keep his mind distracted, forcing himself not to think about the feeling of Mizuki’s hand against his own, Mizuki’s eyes that looked at him with so much interest and kindness that he almost forgot this was all a giant lie.

After morning practice he was spent. At lunch he was drained. Afternoon practice arrived, and he was moving like a machine, mechanically following old movement patterns, lashing out at everyone who said a word too much where he could hear. Everyone except Mizuki. Around Mizuki his self-restraint was still holding on, just barely clinging to the cracks in his foundation as he plastered his last happy expressions on his face and hoped they wouldn’t crumple and fall off faster than he could turn away. He could do this. Mizuki was trying hard. So he could do this too.

Kimishita slumped down on the ground in between warmups and sighed. Mizuki asked him something in a worried tone. He answered with a string of words that made more or less sense but that he couldn’t remember a second later. Coach Nakazawa blew the whistle and he stood up again. For a moment the world swayed around him, and he nearly stumbled down.

A hand wrapped around his arm and kept him in place, but it wasn’t Mizuki’s.

“You need a break,” Kiichi said quietly into his ear.

Kimishita tensed up, then he gave a defeated sigh. Kiichi was right, he knew that. He should have taken a break long ago. And yet he hadn’t. He hadn’t even managed to go to Kiichi for help, avoiding him and pretending to be all right even though he had felt his gaze on him all day, afraid that if Kiichi whisked him away and they ended up alone somewhere he wouldn’t be able to bottle up these feelings anymore, afraid that he’d crack and say things he knew he would regret later. He couldn’t spill his guts to Kiichi. He couldn’t open up too much. The last time he had made that mistake, he had regretted it bitterly.

If he thought about it, he was still regretting it now.

“I’m fine,” he answered, sounding like a liar in his own ears. “I can keep going a little longer. The day’s almost over.”

“Kimishita.”

Something about Kiichi’s voice made him pause and grit his teeth, a tense feeling in his chest.

“Remember what I told you,” Kiichi said in that same quiet voice, but there was something desperate now, pleading, almost sad. “I’m here. Always.”

_This feeling..._

Kimishita closed his eyes. His expression threatened to betray him. Kiichi’s voice was stirring up memories, memories he had tried his hardest to forget. It was stirring up the desire to give in and turn around and lean against him and tell him everything, everything that was pulling him down, everything that he felt so stupid trying to talk about. He couldn’t make that mistake again. He had finally freed himself from those old times. There was no way he could go back now.

“I know, idiot,” he whispered roughly. “Let go.”

“No!”

Kiichi’s grip tightened on his arm. “No, you don’t know! You don’t get it!” he hissed back. “I would’ve gotten you out, ya know? But you didn’t even let me...”

“I have my reasons. Let go!”

Kiichi’s fingers dug into Kimishita’s arm, forceful, almost helpless.

Kimishita swallowed. He did feel bad. Earlier he had thought he’d be able to count on Kiichi for help, but apparently he was too much of a coward. He didn’t want to let his guard down, and the burden was so much that he had no doubts he would do just that if Kiichi started helping him. He had overestimated himself completely, and now he had made both of them look like idiots.

“Fine,” he whispered, quickly and quietly, so quietly that Kiichi had to lean closer to catch the words. “I didn’t let you help because then I’d have let my guard down, and I thought I wouldn’t get it back up later. Now let go!”

Kiichi let go, but his gaze lingered on Kimishita. “So later, after practice...?”

“Maybe. Now shut up.”

Kimishita was digging his own grave, he knew that. But what else should he have said? Maybe didn’t have to mean yes, after all.

\---

He opened his eyes, and for a moment everything was blurry.

Kimishita wasn’t sure what had happened. The last thing he remembered he had been on the pitch, playing with the others, running after the ball... or was it towards the goal? Where had he been? What had he...

He sat up and nearly fell back down as the world started to spin around in circles. The club room materialized around him, still empty except for himself and Kiichi, who was kneeling at his side.

“Oh, you’re alive,” he said.

“No shit.” Kimishita scowled up at him. “What happened?”

Kiichi tucked his hands into his pockets. “You collapsed,” he mumbled. “I hit your head with the ball to cover it up, and then I took you out here. Told you you needed a break.”

Kimishita gave him a look, then he glanced down at himself. Kiichi had stuffed a gym bag under his head as a pillow and splashed water in his face, even if most of it had ended up on his shirt. He still felt weak, but much better than earlier.

Kiichi had been right, huh. He’d overdone it completely.

He tried to get up, but Kiichi pushed him back down. “Stay there,” he said. “You need to rest. Future captain’s orders.”

Kimishita wanted to argue, but the orders sounded much too welcome. With a quiet sigh he lay back, closing his eyes and not opening them again until he felt a pair of hands at his feet, fiddling with his cleats.

“What are you doing?” he asked, opening one eye.

“Untying your shoelaces,” Kiichi replied without looking up.

“Why?”

“I can’t take off your cleats with your shoelaces tied.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do. Your feet are sore, you gotta stretch them.”

Kimishita didn’t know how he had found out. Kimishita didn’t know how Kiichi had noticed that before he did. All he knew was that right now, he felt immensely, overwhelmingly grateful.

“Fucking idiot.” He cracked a half-smile, and this time it felt real. “Fine, I get it. I won’t avoid you next time. Happy now?”

Kiichi responded with a big grin, so wide and happy that Kimishita almost caught himself wondering if he shouldn’t have stopped liking him in middle school after all.

Almost.

That was close.


	12. Surprise

Ooshiba returned home with very mixed feelings.

He was happy, of course. He was happy to have spent a quiet, peaceful moment with Kimishita. He was happy to have seen Kimishita smile again at last, really, honestly smile, without that strained fake look he’d been putting on whenever he spoke to Mizuki lately. He was happy that, just for a little moment, Kimishita had looked happy, and it had been with him.

And yet Kimishita hadn’t asked him for help when he needed it. And yet Kimishita had gone out of his way to avoid him so that he didn’t even have the chance to help, and even during their moment earlier he hadn’t told him what exactly was going on. He still continued to pretend to be okay in front of Mizuki, pretend to be happy, visibly panicking that his façade wasn’t working, what Mizuki might think of him. Even after all this he was still thinking so much about Mizuki, focusing on him, fretting about him, way too much.

Something needed to be done. As a good friend, as someone who was desirable and a way better boyfriend than Mizuki, as someone who cared a lot about Kimishita, he had to do something.

So he came up with a plan.

\---

For the first time in ages, Kimishita didn’t feel like getting out of his futon today. It was the weekend at last, and he had already slept much longer than he usually did; normally he hated sleeping in even on weekends, preferring to wake up early and do the things he didn’t have time to do during the week. But not today. Today he glanced at his alarm clock on the nightstand, saw that he had already slept longer than usual, and rolled over to pull the blanket over his head once more.

Just five more minutes. Or ten, or twenty. Or maybe an hour. He didn’t really care. He just wanted to sleep, damn it. He still felt like he hadn’t slept a wink. All night strange dreams had been passing in and out of his head, leaving him tossing and turning and feeling even more exhausted than before.

He didn’t want to get up and do anything today. He just wanted to sleep and forget about everything. Take a break from everyone, from Mizuki–

A knock on his door made him roll over and open his eyes with a groan.

“Atsushi?” his father called, his tone clearly worried. “Atsushi, are you all right in there?”

Oh, damn it. Kimishita poked his head out from underneath the blanket with a stab of guilt. Of course he couldn’t just sleep in like this, his old man would get worried. That was the last thing he needed.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, stifling a huge yawn. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep well.”

Half a second after it was out he already regretted the last sentence, and his father’s even more worried tone proved him very much right. “Didn’t sleep well?” he repeated, opening the door a crack and popping his head in. “What’s wrong? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“I’m  _fine_ ,” Kimishita repeated unwillingly. “Been a stressful week is all.” He yawned, stretched, and pulled the covers back over his head. “Five more minutes. Wake me up when it’s time for my shift.”

His father hesitated for a moment. “What about breakfast–”

“Start without me,” Kimishita grumbled into the pillow.

“All right, all right.” His father still didn’t sound too convinced, but at least he laughed again. “Good night again, son. Dream of something nice.”

_I somehow doubt I will,_  Kimishita thought and gave a small sigh of relief when his father closed the door and his footsteps moved away through the apartment. As much as he loved his old man, right now he didn’t want to see or hear anyone. He just wanted to switch off his brain and pass out for an hour or eight until he felt recharged again. Without weird dreams and waking up in the middle of the night and tossing and turning this time.

He had barely closed his eyes for five minutes when footsteps hurried up to the door again, and his door burst open so abruptly that Kimishita nearly fell out of his futon.

“Atsushi,” his father shouted, “sorry to wake you, but you have a visitor!”

Kimishita sat bolt upright in a heartbeat, all traces of weariness falling off him as panic shot through his body. “Who is it?”

Mizuki, it was probably Mizuki, it had to be Mizuki... Who else could it be?

“Oh, it’s that kid from your school,” his father said nonchalantly. “Your teammate, I think his name was–”

_Fucking hell._

“Be right there!” Kimishita was already on his feet, grabbing his futon and stuffing it together as fast as he could. “Tell him to wait a few more minutes!” Damn it, why was that guy here already? Oh, he should’ve known. Somebody must have told him that boyfriends took their significant others out on dates on the weekend. Kimishita should have expected this to happen, and yet here he was, keeping him waiting... Damn it, where were all his clothes? Hairbrush, where had he put his hairbrush... Should he brush his teeth too? Took too much time... ah, but morning breath! Crap, the minutes kept ticking by, and Mizuki was still waiting downstairs... where was everything, for crying out loud?

_Shitshitshitshitshit–_

Whispering a curse, Kimishita threw on the first shirt and pants he found in his drawer, sprinted to the bathroom to brush his teeth and try to make something of his hair, and raced through the apartment and into the shop so fast that he nearly fell over his feet.

“Hey,” said a voice.

Kimishita bounced back. This wasn’t Mizuki’s voice. And this wasn’t Mizuki standing in front of him, either.

“Kiichi,” he gasped out, his insides collapsing with relief even as a pang of disappointment shot through him. Now that he knew it wasn’t Mizuki, he almost wished it was him, offering to take him somewhere and hold his hand again, away from any prying teammate eyes. On second thought, part of him had almost wanted to spend the day with Mizuki, awkward as that would have been. Part of him felt like he didn’t see him enough as it was.

But the pull of disappointment soon faded into confusion. Even without Mizuki in the calculation this was bizarre. What was Kiichi, the very same Kiichi who refused to get out of bed a single second before noon on weekends, doing here with his hair perfectly styled and his favorite brand clothes at nine o’clock in the morning?

“What do you want?” he asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow and frowning. “Did your sister finally teach you to wake up at a reasonable time?”

Kiichi’s cheeks turned pink. “Shut the fuck up,” he answered, crossing his arms and looking uncomfortable. “I’m here to, uh... I wanna...”

“ _What?_ ” Kimishita snapped impatiently.

Kiichi turned even pinker. “Shut up!”

“I will shut up if you tell me what you want! What is it, cat got your tongue?”

Kiichi’s embarrassed pout turned into a scowl, then back into a pout as his face went progressively redder. He looked at the ground, then at Kimishita and back at the ground.

“Kimishita. Let’s hang out.”

Kimishita gaped at him, wondering if his half-sleepy systems had somehow misprocessed the information.

“What?”

“Let’s hang out,” Kiichi said again in that same matter-of-fact tone he always put on when technically asking for something. “You in?”

“Now wait just a minute!” Kimishita glared up at him, his suspicion growing with every passing second. “You never just show up at my fucking doorstep and ask to  _hang out!_  Do you have any ulterior motives, huh?”

Kiichi vigorously shook his head, as if appalled by the mere thought. “No!” he said stubbornly. “I don’t have any ul– ulte– uh... alternative motives–”

“Ul-te-ri-or! Don’t tell me you don’t even know what that means, idiot!”

“I do too! Shut the fuck up and say if you wanna hang out with me or not!”

“ _Kiichi._ ” Kimishita sighed through gritted teeth. He was starting to feel the absence of his morning coffee on a spiritual level, his patience was wearing thin. “If you want me to give a proper answer, why don’t you try to explain what the fuck you’re up to, idiot? Hang out  _where?_  When? For how long?” He clicked his tongue. “Just so you know, I’m not going anywhere without my coffee!” His stomach growled. “Or breakfast.”

Kiichi made an obnoxiously generous dismissive gesture. “Go eat then. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t act all generous about it! And I’m still not going anywhere till you tell me  _where–_ ”

“Oh... Ooshiba-kun, was it?”

Kimishita nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard his father following him at all.

“Your name is Ooshiba-kun, isn’t it?” his father asked, smiling cheerfully at the idiot standing on his doorstep. “Atsushi's only ever called you Kiichi in the past two years, I’m never sure if I remember your last name right.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue and made a disapproving noise. He didn’t want to stand there and watch his father start a conversation with this useless giant with the IQ of an average houseplant. He wanted to  _eat_ , damn it, and he wanted his coffee.

“Yup, it’s Ooshiba,” Kiichi replied with an air of pride and a smug look on his face. Or so it would have seemed, if it wasn’t for the telltale flush of pink on his cheeks giving him away. “But, uh...” He looked away. “Kiichi’s fine.”

“Really? Well, Kiichi-kun...” His father gestured into the apartment. “If you’re planning to hang out with Atsushi afterwards, why don’t you join us for breakfast? We don’t have much but it’s better than having you wait out here the whole time.”

“Pops!” Kimishita hissed, but Kiichi was already taking off his shoes and placing them next to the other two pairs, a surprisingly neat and well-mannered gesture for someone who’d usually just kick them off and let them lie wherever they landed. Kimishita sighed. He hated extroverts sometimes. But he was outnumbered two against one, and the less of a fight he put up the sooner he’d be able to restore his batteries.

They made their way into the kitchen that was just large enough for two people to fit in without getting into each other’s ways, the doorframe so low that Kiichi hit his head against it when entering. Kimishita threw a glance at the stove and gave a sigh of relief when he saw that his father had had the sensibility to take the frying pan full of eggs off it when going to open the door earlier. Not that there were enough eggs for all three of them, to say nothing of them getting cold. But at least the kitchen wasn’t on fire.

Kiichi stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching father and son move about to set the table, heat up the eggs and make coffee. When all was ready and they had sat down he was still standing in the same spot, as if waiting for an invitation to sit.

“What?” Kimishita snapped irritably, gesturing to the spare chair they still had standing around the table for the odd chance that someone might drop in. “Want me to carry you to your seat, Your Royal Highness?”

Kiichi made a face at him and sat down, still looking pinkish and rather stiff. Kimishita rolled his eyes, mumbled “Thanks for the food,” and finally gulped down his long-awaited coffee.

For some time they ate in silence, with Kiichi sitting awkwardly next to them, looking two sizes too big for their small table and the tiny kitchen. He declined any food or drinks he was offered, mumbling something about having eaten at home already, and after they were finished he still remained in the same position as if waiting for something, his eyes looking at nobody in particular.

“You’ve had your coffee now,” he said at last.

Kimishita frowned. “Yeah.”

“And breakfast.”

“No shit.”

“So do you, uh...” Kiichi drew patterns on the table with his finger. “Wanna hang out now?”

Kimishita sighed. He wasn’t going to get around this, was he? “Not until you tell me where we’re going,” he said sharply.

Kiichi crossed his arms. “It’s a secret.”

“Then I’m not going!”

“Why not?”

“Because...”  _Because Captain might ask to meet up later, and I don’t want to have to say no to him because I’m out with you all day._  Couldn’t say that in front of his father. His eyes darted about, searching for some kind of excuse, a reason why he– oh, right. He remembered.

“Because I’ve got a shift later,” he snapped. “Unlike some people in here I have work and responsibilities, idiot!”

“About that,” his father butted in, “why don’t you take today off, Atsushi?”

Kimishita froze as the cold shock of betrayal stabbed into his chest. “Wha–”

“Take today off,” his father repeated, blissfully unaware of the damage he was doing. “You’ve been looking stressed lately, you need a break. Go ahead and have fun with your friend, I’ll take care of the rest!”

“But–”

“No buts! You have today off.” His father gave him a hearty pat on the back. “Or do you think your old man’s too weak to take over your shift alone?”

“No, but–” Kimishita trailed off. He was officially out of excuses. Both his father and Kiichi were looking at him with expectant eyes, and he couldn’t help but ask himself how his own family could have betrayed him like this.

“Fine,” he snapped, standing up and gathering the empty plates and cups. “Take me wherever you want, Kiichi. But take too long and I’ll kill you.”

\---

They were halfway across the city, and still Kimishita had no idea where Kiichi was taking him. Every time he tried to ask Kiichi would only mutter something about surprises and drag him along faster, and every time he tried to peer at anything that might reveal their destination Kiichi got in the way and blocked the view with that stupid giant body of his. Kimishita was starting to lose his patience. The streets and trains and streets they were pushing through were getting more and more crowded and touristy, they’d been traveling around for what seemed like forever, and still there was no end in sight. Was Kiichi planning to keep dragging him around all day? Where in the world were they headed?

Anxiety settled in his gut as he thought about Mizuki. It was only an off chance, but what if the captain really did turn up at his place to meet? What if Kimishita wasn’t there to go with him? He didn’t want to miss Mizuki just because Kiichi was dragging him to goodness knew where. Just the thought of being alone with him again made his mouth dry and his palms sweaty, and yet the need to see him was a physical craving, the prospect of missing out on the chance triggering symptoms of withdrawal.

_Please show up, Captain. Please don’t. No, turn up when I’m back... don’t wait for me to come back... no, please..._

Kiichi came to a stop so abruptly that Kimishita almost walked into him. “It’s here,” he declared smugly.

Kimishita peered around him, looked up over the heads of the countless tourists, and found himself staring at the full six hundred and thirty-four meters of the Tokyo Skytree.

He opened and closed his mouth several times with no sound coming out, blinking stupidly back and forth between Kiichi and the tower. “Wha–” he stuttered out at last, unsure if he should be shocked or amazed. “What the–?!”

“The Skytree,” Kiichi said like it was the most simple thing in the world.

“I can see that!” Kimishita clicked his tongue in irritation. “Why did you take me here, idiot?”

“To hang out!”

“People don’t ‘hang out’ at a fucking tourist attraction!”

“I thought you wanted to go here!”

“Now listen here, you idiot–”

Kimishita stopped mid-sentence, realized what Kiichi had just said, blinked, triple-checked that he had most definitely not misheard, blinked again, and stared at him for a full minute before finally stuttering out, “Wha– How did you know th–?!”

“You said so.” Kiichi turned away to hide his face. “In middle school. Truth or Dare. When they asked you where you’d wanna go on a date.”

Kimishita frowned, torn between disbelief and amazement that Kiichi had remembered such a tiny detail about him that he had mentioned years ago. This wasn’t like Kiichi at all. That guy had a Swiss cheese for a memory... so why? Why had he memorized a tiny little thing that even Kimishita couldn’t remember mentioning?

_Good thing I’m over him. Otherwise I’d be dying right now, reading way too much into this again._

“You remembered, huh?” Kimishita raised an eyebrow. “So you do have a memory.”

Kiichi didn’t argue back like he usually would. He just grabbed Kimishita by the arm and pulled him towards the insufferably long line of tourists in front of them, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Let’s get tickets for today before they sell out or some shit.”

Kimishita had no idea how this place worked, so he just followed along, still too baffled to talk much. The closer they moved to the Skytree the taller it seemed, enormously, insurmountably, dizzyingly high, disproportionate like an oversized toy planted into the middle of a tiny model landscape. He thought about going up there, about gazing down at the city from above, the countless streets and buildings so tiny they almost didn’t seem real. He thought about the way he had tried to save up for tickets when he was little, the unique opportunity Kiichi was offering him, and all of a sudden the thought of staying here longer didn’t seem that bad at all.

They were silent for the entire time they waited, the line diminishing in front of them, growing behind their backs. Kiichi wasn’t looking at him, but his hand rested on Kimishita’s arm long after he stopped pulling him, as if he had completely forgotten to let go. And then it was their turn, and before Kimishita knew what was happening Kiichi had bought them a pair of tickets for a price he didn’t even dare think about.

“We got lucky. We can go up at five-thirty,” Kiichi explained as he handed him their tickets for safekeeping. “Last time we had to wait longer.”

“Fi–?!” Kimishita stared at him, then at the tickets, then at the clock. It was only around noon. They’d be here all day. If Mizuki tried to meet him, he wouldn’t be at home. If they tried to arrange something, he wouldn’t be free till the evening. “Five– what?”

“Yup. We got the last ones, everybody behind us has to wait longer.” Kiichi pointed smugly to the line. “I got us the best tickets.”

“The best tickets my ass!” Kimishita clenched his teeth to hide the rising feeling of panic creeping up behind his annoyance. “What did I tell you about not taking too long, you idiot? We’ll be waiting here all day! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Kiichi crossed his arms like a spiteful child. “You always gotta wait that long if you wanna go on the Skytree!”

“Then don’t fucking take me here if I say I don’t want to be out all day!” Kimishita shot back. “What are we even supposed to do until then, huh?”

Kiichi didn’t miss a beat. “Lunch.”

Kimishita’s stomach growled. He had completely forgotten that it was already lunchtime. They had really wasted that much time on traveling across the city and standing in this stupid line for a ticket that would get them up the tower when the sun had already set. And now they were about to waste even more.

“You want to eat lunch for five whole hours, huh?” he growled. “How many stomachs do you have?”

“Not for five hours!” Kiichi replied, sounding a whole lot like Kimishita had just asked a very stupid question. “I wanna go somewhere else too.”

Kimishita raised an eyebrow. “Like where?”

Kiichi pointed to a building nearby, the pink blush on his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes betraying his excitement. “The aquarium.”

Oh, hell. He was not getting out of here anytime soon.  _Please don’t try to visit me today, Captain. No point. I’m a captive right now._

“There’s a fucking aquarium here, huh,” he said out loud, torn between panic and resignation. “Let me guess. It has tropical fish.”

“It has everything!” Kiichi declared with mild offense in his voice. “Tropical fish. Sharks. Penguins. Seals.” His eyes started to sparkle. “It’s got all kinds of cool shit. And it’s huge!”

Kimishita stared at him. He was still panicking and cursing the missed opportunity to see Mizuki, but Kiichi’s shiny-eyed description made the prospect of spending the whole day here a little less terrible.

_You won’t have to worry about awkward silences,_  a voice said in his mind.  _You won’t have to worry about what to do or say._

He wouldn’t think about that. But since he was already roped into this mess anyway, might as well go along with this idiot’s nonsense for a change.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re paying for everything, got that?”

He just really hoped he wouldn't end up regretting this later.


	13. Ocean

And so it was that roughly half an hour later, Kimishita found himself sitting across from Kiichi at a crowded restaurant, munching on a plate of indescribably delicious stuff he had never heard of or even imagined before and the name of which he couldn’t remember because he had only thrown a second’s glance at the menu before resolutely closing it and forcing himself not to look at anything written in it ever again, especially not the prices. Tourist prices, Kiichi had called them earlier. Exploiters’ prices seemed more accurate. Kimishita was just glad Kiichi was paying.

“Is it good?” Kiichi asked after a few minutes of quiet chewing, gesturing to Kimishita’s plate. “The food.”

Kimishita finished chewing on his current mouthful and gulped it down before answering, “Not half bad.” He clicked his tongue. “But did you have to pick out the most expensive spot? It’s a waste of money, idiot!”

“It’s the only place with good food.” Kiichi took a huge bite and continued to talk with his mouth full. “And less crowded. We gotta hurry up if we still wanna see the aquarium.”

A handful of people passed by and gave him odd looks. Kimishita clicked his tongue and smacked him over the hand. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he hissed. “We’re in public, mind your manners!”

Kiichi stuffed another giant bite into his mouth before finishing the first. “Don’th ell me whatho do.”

Kimishita scowled at him. “Idiot, that’s the fastest way to–”

Kiichi started coughing like mad and reaching for his glass of soda.

“–choking on your food,” Kimishita finished with an exasperated sigh, standing up and walking around the table to pat Kiichi on the back until he stopped coughing. “Idiot! Did nobody teach you not to stuff your face like that or did it just not stick with your three lone brain cells, you absolute dumbfuck?”

Kiichi gulped down half his soda at once. “Shut up.”

“Shut up my ass! Did you not know that you can die from choking on things?”

“I’m not gonna die from choking on a bit of rice!”

“Say that again when you stop stuffing your face and talking at the same time!” Kimishita gave him a murderous glare, just as the curious eyes of some bystanders crossed his field of vision and he flushed pink, hurriedly sitting back down. “Besides,” he added, returning back to his food, “you have rice on your face.”

Kiichi tried to wipe it with his hand, failed, and grabbed a napkin that conveniently hid the embarrassed blush on his cheeks as he cleaned his face. “Gone now?”

Kimishita threw him a half-appreciative glance. “Gone,” he said. Thank goodness. If Kiichi had failed to get the goddamn rice off his face he might have had to step in and do it himself like some babysitter or something. That had happened before, after all. The difference was just that the last time this happened had been in middle school, and it had taken Kimishita five whole minutes to convince himself that he would most definitely not look like an idiot before finally snatching a napkin and wiping Kiichi’s face as quickly as possible, blushing like mad. He sighed. At least this time he wouldn’t have to worry about his face flushing redder than Kiichi’s hair if he was stuck playing the unpaid babysitter again.

They somehow managed to finish lunch without any further messes and Kiichi paid for their food, leaving a generous tip that left Kimishita squirming as well as wondering if he’d also get such enormous tips if he took up a job here. Maybe after graduation, he mused. Maybe he’d even be able to convince Kiichi to come here every once in a while and tip him; he seemed to have been pretty generous towards him lately.

Kiichi barely waited until the waitress had picked up the money, then he jumped to his feet, grabbing Kimishita’s wrist and pulling him along. “Aquarium,” he said with sparkling eyes. “Let’s go!”

Kimishita barely had time to grab his jacket before he found himself yanked out of the door and towards the aquarium.

\---

Blue. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but blue.

Kimishita stopped walking, his eyes speeding right and left as he tried to take in all the impressions at once. He had never seen so many fish tanks in one spot. People were jostling all around him, walking and pushing, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the blue, on the strange, almost magical light shimmering through the water.

“Cool, right?”

Kimishita jumped. He had completely lost track of Kiichi after setting foot in here. The idiot stood right next to him, his eyes shining, almost unnaturally blue in the light. The look on his face was unusual, a mixture of pride and childlike amazement, dreamy, wistful somehow, not at all like the Kiichi he knew so well.

“Not bad,” he said, his voice somehow coming out quieter than usual, as if the calm, majestic silence of the giant water tanks and blue lights was somehow forbidding him from raising his voice or speaking in anything but an awed whisper. His eyes rested on the tanks, following the fish as they swam their way through the endless blue, the only sound in his ears the rushing and bubbling of water and the distant footsteps and murmur of the crowd.

Kiichi stood beside him in the same awed silence, then his finger tapped lightly against the back of Kimishita’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Kimishita gave a nod and followed him towards the vibrant greens of the natural aquascapes, taking in the countless number of bizarre, otherworldly little landscapes that looked like pieces of a fairy kingdom, watching bubbles of air rise past the blues and greens and browns to the surface and myriads of tiny fish appearing and disappearing between roots and leaves, quick and shimmering like aquatic butterflies.

“The plants and the animals in here all need each other to live,” Kiichi explained quietly, his nose pressed to the glass. “The plants make all the oxygen that the fish and the shrimps and the other tiny stuff... uh... breathe. And the fish make all the carbohydrate–”

“Carbon dioxide,” Kimishita interrupted him with a roll of his eyes and the faintest crack of a smirk.

“That’s what I said. They breathe out all that shit the plants need.” Kiichi made a vague gesture. “They both need each other in there. If you took out one, they’d die.”

Kimishita gave him a sidelong look. Part of him was amused at the captain obvious explanation; the other part, however, couldn’t help feeling a little amazed. Kiichi still had trouble with basic arithmetics at school, and yet he had memorized and processed a piece of information like this, correctly except for the single malapropism. For Kiichi this was an impressive feat.

“Of course they do,” he said, a definitive glint of amusement in his eyes this time. “That’s how nature works, Kiichi.”

“It’s cool.” Kiichi’s nose was still pressed to the glass, his eyes following a handful of small silvery fish that slid in and out of the leaves of what looked like a tiny underwater tree. “I thought they were just there. Kinda ignoring each other or some shit. But they need each other to live.”

Something about his expression made Kimishita fall silent, his eyes following the water bubbles as they floated to the surface.

At long last Kiichi tore himself away from the bizarre plants and tiny fish, pulling Kimishita along until they came into a dark room. Let into the side walls were several tanks, cast in a pale, ghostly light, glassy, semi-transparent forms floating calmly around in the water.

“Jellyfish, huh,” Kimishita muttered, letting his gaze roam over the tanks. “Of course. They have those too, huh.”

“Of course,” Kiichi said with his head held high. “They got everything, told ya.”

Kimishita nodded and walked across the room to the nearest tank, standing in front of the glass and watching the forms glide by, quiet and leisurely, drifting more than they swam. It was almost hypnotic, really. The more he looked at them, the more he felt like he was standing at the window to an enchanted world, one full of illusions and dreams and things humans were not meant to understand.

Kimishita blinked and shook his head at himself. Ridiculous. First those thoughts he’d had in front of the plants and now this. He wasn’t one for daydreaming or thinking of otherworldly things. This was just a bunch of jellyfish, wobbly, brainless and probably venomous, that just happened to look pretty in the perfectly calculated light of the lamps above.

But they did look beautiful, he had to give them that.

“Jellyfish are boring,” Kiichi muttered next to him, staring up at the ghostly forms. “Pretty though. But boring. They don’t do anything.”

Kimishita raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d like them.”

“Why?”

“They don’t have brains.” Kimishita cracked a smirk. “Birds of a feather and all that.”

Kiichi gave a jolt and pouted at him, but there was no real anger in his face. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not a jellyfish.”

“Not?” Kimishita’s smirk widened. “Why, do jellyfish mutations your size not exist in the oceans?”

Kiichi shook his head. “Sure do! There’s lion’s mane jellyfish with a bell that’s over two meters wide. And their tentacles are thirty-seven meters.” He made a vague gesture to indicate the size. “They’re fucking huge. But they don’t got those here.”

Kimishita gazed up at him in amazement. He actually didn’t know that... and he was glad he never had to encounter such a jellyfish in real life, he thought with a shudder.

“But I’m not a jellyfish,” Kiichi added with a smug look on his face. “I don’t got tentacles. And I’m not ninety-five percent water.”

Kimishita outright gaped at him. Was this really Kiichi? How did the very same idiot who barely knew how to spell and do math in his head know such an absurd amount of trivia about  _sea creatures_  of all things?

“What?” Kiichi asked him after a while, looking slightly embarrassed, and Kimishita suddenly realized he’d been staring.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, glaring back at the jellyfish. “I was just wondering if you have a fish tank in your head.”

“No, I got a brain.”

“Sounds like something someone with a fish tank in their head would say.”

“Fuck off.”

It wasn’t until Kiichi tapped his shoulder that Kimishita realized he’d been smirking again. What was it with him and smiling today? He never smiled so often. That wasn’t like him at all.

“C’mon,” Kiichi mumbled and pulled him along. “Let’s go. Jellyfish are boring.”

Kimishita nodded and followed him on through the aquarium, past the remaining jellyfish and through what looked like an art gallery with tiny tanks instead of paintings, each one filled with different tiny creatures that Kiichi gazed at as if they were the tiniest, softest kittens he had ever seen. All along he would spout little facts and pieces of information about the lifeforms they passed, and Kimishita made a mental note to memorize every single one of them and check if they were true later.

And then they left the gallery, and standing in front of them were rows of tanks full of coral reefs and tropical fish in all colors and sizes.

“Oh no,” Kimishita muttered just as Kiichi darted out towards the first one, observing the fish in it with sparkling eyes.

“Look, look!” Kiichi said with an excited motion, and Kimishita sighed and followed him to the tank. “Do you see this one here?” He pointed at a flat, orange striped fish with a large black spot at its back. “That’s a copper-band butterflyfish. The black spot’s to confuse big fish that eat it, it looks like an eye and they dunno where the front is.”

Kimishita looked at the fish and nodded.

“And that one,” Kiichi continued, pointing at a blue fish with a yellow fin that looked faintly like some cartoon character Kimishita remembered seeing once, “is a regal tang. I got a couple of those. They don’t really do shit, but they look cool.”

Kimishita nodded. He still couldn’t remember where he had seen that kind of fish before.

Kiichi continued to name every single species of tropical fish as they passed the tanks, one after the other, until finally they came across an orange-and-white striped fish that even Kimishita recognized.

“That one’s a clownfish,” he said.

“Partly true.” Kiichi raised his head with that annoyingly smug look he always got when he thought he knew something better. “This is a percula clownfish. It’s not the only kinda clownfish, there’s also maroon clownfish, pink skunk clownfish and tomato clownfish.”

Kimishita snorted. “Tomato clownfish? Let me guess, you have one of those.”

“Nah. They don’t look like tomatoes, these fucking traitors.” Kiichi made a face. “They’re not even that red, mine look like a bunch of yellow-ass mangoes. The striped ones are way redder, they should be called tomato clownfish.”

Kimishita raised an eyebrow. “Do you have some striped ones too?”

Kiichi nodded, and the smugness disappeared from his face, his eyes sparkling and shining as if he was a child talking about his Christmas presents. “Yup,” he said. “My first ever fish was one of those! I called it Nemo, like in the movie. I had a Dory too. That movie got me into tropical fish.”

The image of a tiny Kiichi watching Finding Nemo for the ninety-seventh time and nagging his parents to buy him a Nemo and Dory popped into Kimishita’s mind. He smiled. Somehow he wasn’t surprised that Kiichi was so into tropical fish because of a childhood movie.

“ _Finding Nemo_ , huh?” he muttered, watching the clownfish. “Never saw it.”

“ _What the fuck!_ ”

Kimishita gave a start. A little way off people had turned around to stare at him in surprise.

“Shhh!” he whisper-shouted, throwing the other guests apologetic looks. “Mind your manners, idiot! So I didn’t see this one movie, what’s the big deal?”

“ _One_  movie?” Kiichi looked horror-struck. “You had no childhood if you didn’t see  _Finding Nemo!_ ”

“I had a very good childhood, imbecile! Not every kid likes sitting and watching movies all the time!”

“Nope.” The horror faded from Kiichi’s face, and he tapped his fist into his palm like he had just made an important decision. “ _Finding Nemo_. My place. Next weekend. I got popcorn.”

Kimishita opened his mouth to yell at him, then he remembered they were still in public and bit his tongue. What the hell was Kiichi doing, making arrangements without asking him first? He didn’t even–

No, it wasn’t that he was averse to it, he realized. If anything, a movie afternoon with Kiichi, popcorn and a stupid kids’ movie about tropical fish didn’t sound half bad. But, but– but he couldn’t just hang out with Kiichi every weekend! He still had Mizuki, and–

He glanced at his watch and realized it was already way past five.

Wait, what? Just how long had they been in here? It had felt like minutes!

“Kiichi!” he hissed, tugging roughly at his sleeve. “Stop staring at your stupid clownfish, it’s almost time to go back to the Skytree! We need to hurry!”

Kiichi blinked, looked at his own watch, snatched Kimishita’s wrist to look at his watch, and paled. “Oh shit.”

“Yes, oh shit! Let’s hurry, or else we came in here for nothing!”

They ran away from the tropical fish and past another series of small tanks without stopping. Kimishita was just about to continue sprinting on towards the exit when Kiichi grabbed his arm and pulled him back, dragging him towards the biggest glassy dome of water he had ever seen in his life.

“The big tank,” he insisted. “We gotta see the big tank or we weren’t here.”

Kimishita struggled and resisted, but he couldn’t pull himself free. “Idiot, we don’t have time–”

“Just five minutes!”

Kimishita looked at his watch and then at Kiichi, calculated everything in his head, and sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Kiichi’s face lit up, and the two of them sped towards the gigantic tank.

Calling this “the big tank” had been an understatement. It was huge. It was so huge that every other tank looked like a glass of water compared to it, vast and round, reaching high above their heads, and the creatures gliding majestically through the water were things Kimishita had never thought he’d ever see up close. Huge sharks and stingrays were floating past the glass among glistening schools of smaller fish, graceful, threatening and utterly fascinating.

Kimishita couldn’t stop staring.

“This...” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the spotted shark swimming so dangerously close to the glass, dangerous and yet safe, close enough to touch at the reach of a hand if the glass hadn’t been in the way. “This is...”

Kiichi nodded vigorously. “Awesome, right?”

“Well...” Kimishita glanced down, a little embarrassed to get so into it when he had been so reluctant to even come here at all. “It’s... impressive, I have to give them that.”

“Yup. The sharks are the coolest.” Kiichi pointed to the one now drifting away from the glass into the depths of the tank. “Did you know? Most sea fish don’t got a lot of salt in their meat but the meat of sharks is as salty as a certain Kimishita Atsushi.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Ah? Don’t bring me into this!”

“That’s what they write in all the books.”

“Then you can’t fucking read!”

“Yup. That’s what I got you for.”

“Learn to read yourself, idiot! It’s not like I’ll be around to babysit your sorry ass forever!”

Kiichi flipped him off. Kimishita snorted.

Then he glanced at his watch again and paled.

“Idiot, that was more than five minutes!” he burst out, snatching Kiichi by the hand and dragging him along, away from the tank, out of the aquarium and towards the Skytree, sprinting as fast as he could. “Hurry, we’re going to be late!”

Side by side they sped past the tourist masses, into the Skytree and up to a waiting group of tourists outside the elevator a few seconds before the clock struck half.

“That was close,” Kimishita gasped as they squeezed into the elevator, traveling up at high speed and stepping out the door. “Next time try calculating in more time if you want to stand in front of the tropical fish tank forever, idiot! You almost wasted your ticket money!”

Kiichi pouted at him. “We made it though.”

“Yeah.” Kimishita leaned against the wall behind him. “We made it.”

They looked at each other and started grinning. Kimishita didn’t understand why. He just looked up at Kiichi’s stupid face, looking as breathless and relieved as he felt, and couldn’t stop smiling. Perhaps it was the leftover adrenaline. Perhaps racing to the Skytree together, almost missing their timeframe, barely making it in time, had actually been kind of fun.

“Look,” Kiichi said after a while, pointing to the vast scape of windows opening the view on the city below.

Kimishita stepped up to the window and caught his breath.

It was getting dark outside. The sun had almost set, the sky slowly fading into a darker shade of blue and purple as the clouds reflected the last rays of the sun, orange and pink and countless hues of purple. Below them, distant and tiny like a toy landscape, stretched out the city, reaching into the distance up to the horizon, streetlights and windows twinkling and shining like a gian ocean of stars. It was like standing on top of the world, looking down on the world where all the troubles of everyday life seemed so small and unimportant that he almost forgot they existed at all.

It was the most incredible sight he had ever seen.

For a very long time Kimishita said nothing. He simply continued to stare at the tiny cityscape as the sun set and it got darker and darker, the city lights below shining brighter and brighter. Purples and pinks faded to blue, blue faded to black. And still he was standing there, oblivious to everything around him, just looking down at this view and wishing time would stop.

“Kimishita.”

He jumped. Over this amazing view he had almost forgotten about Kiichi.

“Let’s go around,” Kiichi said quietly, pointing along the windows. “You can see the city from everywhere.”

So they circled along the glass, slowly and silently, taking in the ever-changing patterns of streets and lights, the darker spots, the ones that were so brightly illuminated it still looked like day. Neither of them said a word. The only thing on Kimishita’s mind was the view, burning into his mind so that he never forgot this beauty.

Thinking back now, he didn’t regret coming here. He didn’t regret letting Kiichi and his father talk him into tagging along. Today had been fun after all, more fun and relaxed than he had ever expected it to be. And it was all thanks to Kiichi.

It was a good thing after all, he thought, having Kiichi around like this. It was good to have someone he didn’t have to impress, someone who knew him inside and out. Someone with whom he could just be honestly, unapologetically himself, without wondering how he came across or if he should say something to break the silence.

“Kiichi,” he said at last when they were riding the elevator back down, out of the dream and back into reality, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... thanks for today, I guess.”

Kiichi just looked at him, wide-eyed.

“It... wasn’t half bad,” Kimishita muttered, avoiding his gaze as embarrassment flushed his face red. “The aquarium was interesting. And the view was good.” He scowled deeply. “Thank you.”

Kiichi still continued to gaze at him in amazement. Then his eyes lit up, shimmering and shining, not with excitement but with joy, his cheeks blushing as he looked away, staring off to the side as they walked out of the tower. “No prob,” he muttered awkwardly. “So, uh...”

“What?”

“So, uh...” Kiichi stared intensely at his shoes. “If you wanna... We can do this again sometime.”

Kimishita sighed. Then he smiled. The notion didn’t seem half bad.

“We’ll see.”

\---

It wasn’t until Kiichi had dropped him off at home and he was back in his room, his head still swirling with all the impressions, that he remembered about his phone.

No, he told himself. Nobody had tried to text or call him. Definitely not Mizuki. He was just checking to make sure. Nothing else.

But there was a text. One single text, sent from none other than Mizuki.

_Are you free today?_

And it had been sent four hours ago.


	14. Distraction

Kimishita stared at the message in complete silence.

He read it once. Twice. He read it over and over, until the words were burned into his eyes, glaring and glowing behind his eyelids even when he closed them. His mind was blank. The phone slowly slid and fell from his grasp, landing on his mattress with a dull thud.

And then, little by little, everything started to dawn on him.

Mizuki had texted him. Mizuki had remembered him. Mizuki had actually wanted to meet him, and he hadn’t even replied. He had stood him up completely.

What had he been doing? What must Mizuki have thought? He must have thought he couldn’t even bother to look at his phone on a weekened. He must have thought he didn’t care. He must have thought that, after all the trouble of going up to him and confessing his feelings like some lovestruck idiot, after selfishly roping him into a relationship with someone whose feelings he didn’t return, after causing him so much unnecessary trouble, he didn’t even care enough to reply to a text from his own boyfriend.

Stupid. Tactless. Unconsiderate.

And what was worse, he hadn’t just missed the text. He had missed it because he had been distracted. He had missed it because he had stupidly, foolishly agreed to go with Kiichi, that stupid, self-centered Kiichi who couldn’t even–

No, this wasn’t Kiichi’s fault. This was his fault for being weak, for not using his head and giving in and not running off as soon as Kiichi told him how long they’d have to wait to get on the Skytree. This was his fault for letting himself be roped into lunch and an aquarium visit and a view on the cityscape, his fault for letting himself become so distracted that he hadn’t even thought about checking his phone.

This was his fault... for having fun.

Mizuki had been waiting for his reply, and he had been out there enjoying himself without him. Forgetting about him, completely.

What kind of stupid, useless failure of a boyfriend would do  _that_  on their very first weekend of dating?

Fine. So maybe this wasn’t proper dating. It wasn’t like he was in danger of breaking Mizuki’s heart here. He wished.

No, he wasn’t breaking the captain’s heart. But what he was doing, and what felt a thousand, a million times worse, was wasting his precious energy and time.

He had wanted to be the one who enabled Mizuki. He had wanted to be the one that pushed him forward, the one that made him stronger, made him shine, rise above the others and stand, proud and fierce and undefeatable, at the top of the world with Kimishita at his side as his loyal partner. He had wanted to grow with him, face new challenges, overcome them, take on the world together, side by side, hand in hand and back to back, an unbeatable, inseparable team of two.

But all he ever did was hold him back.

He knew it. He  _knew_  it. He wasn’t good enough for Mizuki even at his best, his strongest, his smartest, his most confident. Not as a player, and definitely not as a person. And right now he wasn’t even at his best; he was at his most terrible and pathetic, flip-flopping back and forth between clinging to Mizuki like a starved child and avoiding him, fearing him, panicking in his presence and faking a smile on his face while conveniently slipping off and ignoring him at the first chance he got. Even someone as oblivious as Mizuki couldn’t go forever without noticing something was off. Even someone as kind-hearted and good-natured and forgiving as him had to get fed up at some point. And right now Kimishita was approaching that point at lightning speed.

_What am I doing?_

He raked his hands through his hair, resting his head against his forearms with a sigh. He had no idea. He couldn’t understand himself. He wanted to be with Mizuki. He needed him, so badly it was twisting him into knots from the inside, pulling him towards him with the force of a giant magnet whenever he wasn’t around. And Mizuki was offering to be with him, and he should be happy and grateful... Mizuki expected that from him. He  _was_  grateful, in a way. But the price for that gratitude, that tiny sliver of happiness was too high, much too high for him to pay.

He had wanted to be with Mizuki as his equal. Not his stupid tag-along that he kept around out of pity.

He didn’t want this. But what he wanted even less was to lose the little he had. It was all someone like him could ever hope to get from someone like Mizuki, and he would hold onto it for as long as he could, cling to it like a lifeline. He tried, at least. And yet, at the same time, whenever he was temporarily away from him, doing stupid, selfish things like the escapade today... he felt good. Almost free. Forgetting, for the moment, that this was the fast track to losing Mizuki for good.

He wanted if this was what an addiction felt like. Needing something like air, longing for it every waking moment of his life and even in his dreams, going mad when it wasn’t around... and yet fearing and rejecting it at the same time, knowing, deep down, that it wasn’t good for him.

And still being unable to let go.

What should he do about this message? What should he tell Mizuki? Should he text him back now, apologize for being busy all day? But what should he say?  _I’m sorry, Kiichi dragged me out to the Skytree in the morning and I was stupid enough to let him and enjoy myself so much I completely forgot about you?_  Should he lie? But what should he say? Could he even bear to tell Mizuki a lie like that in this kind of situation? Didn’t that just make it seem even more like he was cheating?

_Cheating..._

He wouldn’t think of that. He hadn’t done anything forbidden by spending time with a friend. His only mistake had been the timing and his inability to check his messages.

Raising his head, he bent down to pick up his phone where it still lay on the blanket, turning on the screen and staring at Mizuki’s message once more. He should probably reply something before he made himself look even more like an idiot. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he frowned, the words in his head refusing to collaborate.

_I’m sorry I didn’t see this earlier. I was busy–_  no, too distant.

_I let myself be roped into something even though I should have known–_  no, too stupid and entitled.

_If I had seen this earlier I would–_  no, too awkward.

_I’m sorry for leaving you hanging like this even though you’re the one doing all this for my sake. I wish I had seen this in time because I would’ve loved to meet with you today, but I got distracted and I’ve never regretted a distraction more._

Too desperate, clingy and truthful.

Kimishita threw down the phone. No use. There was no point in trying to text Mizuki back. No matter what he wrote, he would only make himself sound even more like an idiot.

No, if anything he had to apologize to him in person tomorrow, even if he had no idea how. He didn’t even know if he would manage to look Mizuki in the eye tomorrow. Probably not. Not after acting like such an ungrateful bastard.

He would never make such a mistake again, that was for sure. He would never ignore Mizuki’s texts again. He would never repay him with ingratitude like he had today.

And most of all, he would not let Kiichi distract him like this again. Ever.

\---

Ooshiba had been looking forward to seeing Kimishita again today. Not just awaiting or anticipating it like he usually did, but actually looking forward. He had been excited to see him, plain and simple.

Today things would be better than before, he was sure. He had finally broken the ice yesterday. Kimishita had relaxed around him, he had opened up, and he had smiled, honestly and naturally, not the forced kind of smile he put on around Mizuki. Just for the day Kimishita had forgotten about the captain and enjoyed himself, visibly, and at the end of the day he had thanked Ooshiba. Actually thanked him. Kimishita, who was so grumpy and proud and reluctant to say anything nice to anyone, had thanked him for the day and told him he had fun.

Today Kimishita would definitely be more open towards him. Today he wouldn’t cut him out and refuse his help in dealing with Mizuki and pretend to be all right until his strength gave way again. Ooshiba had finally figured out how to be the good friend Kimishita needed, and Kimishita was finally starting to understand it too.

Ooshiba couldn’t help smiling. Today everything would definitely be better.

With a light, fluttery feeling in his chest he opened the club room door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately flitting over to Kimishita where he stood putting on his shinguards. Their gazes met. Ooshiba’s face lit up with hope.

Then a shadow fell over Kimishita’s eyes, and he turned away, focusing on his shinguards once more.

Ooshiba blinked at him. What the hell? This was not at all what he had expected.

No, wait. This didn’t have to mean anything. He might have imagined that dark look crossing Kimishita’s face, and maybe he had just looked down and returned to whatever he’d been doing before because that was what Kimishita did, acknowledge someone’s presence and then return to the task at hand. It wasn’t like he had tried to  _avoid_  eye contact with him or anything.

That was right, Ooshiba told himself as he fought down the slight feeling of disappointment stirring in his gut. Maybe Kimishita hadn’t seemed as happy to see him as he had hoped, but that didn’t mean he was unhappy either. Just... normal. Frustratingly normal.

Without a moment’s hesitation Ooshiba crossed the room and walked up to Kimishita, standing close to him as he fidgeted with his own locker, observing him from the corner of his eye. Kimishita didn’t look up. He was tying his shoelaces now, his green gaze fixed on the tips of his fingers without saying a word or reacting at all.

Ooshiba inched closer, not-so-accidentally brushing his fingers against Kimishita’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Kimishita flinched slightly but didn’t look up. For a moment he seemed set on pretending Ooshiba wasn’t here talking to him at all, then he sighed and glanced up at him from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Uh...” Ooshiba stared down at him, raking a hand through his hair. He had no idea what he wanted to say to Kimishita now that he had his attention, he realized.

Kimishita continued to watch him from the corner of his eye, impatience twitching in his face as his fingers pulled the bow on his shoelaces so tight it turned into a lopsided knot. “Do you want anything?” he hissed without turning to face him. “Then hurry up and say it!”

Ooshiba had never wished so much for something to say. He wished something had happened that he could tell Kimishita, some kind of story, or something he had remembered after visiting the aquarium. Anything would do, anything to just talk to Kimishita for a little, but as he looked at his narrowed green eyes and his cold, impatient expression his mind came up blank.

“Nothing.”

Kimishita didn’t reply. He fixed his shoelaces in silence and stood up, marching out of the club room without sparing him another glance. Ooshiba gazed after him, a strange feeling growing in his chest as he watched the door fall shut behind him.

He had expected everything. But not this.

Kimishita showed no change in his behavior at all. Nothing. He was still as sharp and cold and short-tempered as ever, as determined to ignore Ooshiba’s presence and as unwilling to talk to him. No, worse. He was acting like he had after their series of fights, aloof and distrustful, pretending not to notice Ooshiba until he had no way around it anymore and keeping their conversation short, leaving him at the first opportunity. It was as if he was still uncomfortable around Ooshiba. It was as if he still hadn’t forgiven him for the way he had lashed out last week.

It was as if yesterday, with all its quips and smiles and casual teasing, all the light, honest fun had never happened at all.

Or maybe it just wasn’t important to Kimishita. Maybe Ooshiba was the only one who saw that day as something significant, and to Kimishita it was nothing. Forgettable, no big deal.

_If it was Captain it’d be a big deal,_  a voice whispered in his head.  _He doesn’t care just ‘cause it’s you._

Ooshiba clenched his fists, forcing back the bitter frustration boiling inside his veins. He knew all that. He knew, and he hated it. The anger inside him was thrashing, yelling to be let out, yelling at him to grab Mizuki and punch him in the face and scream at Kimishita for being so stupid and selective and thinking Ooshiba wasn’t good enough for him when he was head over heels for someone who wouldn’t look at him twice.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.  _Be a good friend,_  Usui’s words echoed in his mind, the vice-captain’s voice mingling with his own.  _Kimishita can’t help how he feels._  And he understood. His anger wasn’t helping anyone, especially not Kimishita. Kimishita was already suffering enough as things were. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him even more.

So he told himself not to be greedy, forced himself to keep calm. He had made Kimishita happy yesterday, he reminded himself. It was a start, he just had to keep going. Maybe Kimishita would never love him back, but someday, hopefully, he’d start feeling happier thanks to him.

Setting his jaw with resolve, Ooshiba changed into his jersey and made his way out on the pitch, searching around for Kimishita or Mizuki. They weren’t far from each other. Of course not. Mizuki seemed to approach him, Kimishita would probably answer with that fake happy expression again–

Except he didn’t. He dropped his gaze, turned away, and pretended not to have seen Mizuki at all.

Mizuki tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. He looked so completely lost and startled that, just for a split second, Ooshiba almost felt a little sorry for him, standing there blinking at Kimishita’s back, one hand still extended as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

Kimishita didn’t look at Mizuki when they lined up before practice. He didn’t leave with him during their warmup run, darting off before anyone but Tsukamoto had a chance to follow him. He didn’t pair up with him for the exercises either. Mizuki tried, but Kimishita lowered his head as soon as their eyes met, turning away and pairing up with Suzuki instead, leaving the captain staring at him like a lost child once more.

Ooshiba furrowed his brow. Something was off. Something must have happened between Kimishita and Mizuki over the weekend. He didn’t know what or when. But from the way Kimishita avoided Mizuki’s gaze, the way he looked down and hid his face and gritted his teeth in his presence, he had to be feeling bad about himself again.

Did Kimishita think he had messed up somehow? What had happened? When had they even had the time to interact over the weekend when Kimishita had been with him from morning till evening yesterday?

The question haunted him until dribbling and shooting practice was over and they started their practice game again, the teams mixed up this time. It haunted him as Kimishita teamed up with Kazama and Tsukamoto without throwing Ooshiba or Mizuki a single glance, quickly looking away when their eyes met on accident, the shadow of guilt crossing his eyes. His passes were clumsy today, he noticed. Kimishita’s plays lacked their usual surgery-knife precision, their lightning speed. They missed their destinations, and they were easier to intercept, even as bitter shame flickered up in Kimishita’s eyes every time they were. Mizuki didn’t go easy on him, but he looked as lost as ever. Ooshiba stayed out of his way. They weren’t on the same team, so today he couldn’t even use the excuse of yelling at him for playing so poorly and making him lose.

Then at last practice was over, and just as Mizuki tried to approach Kimishita again Ooshiba grabbed him and pulled him away from the team, towards a more secluded spot behind the gym nearby. “We gotta talk,” he said to Mizuki. “Be right back.”

Kimishita shot him a murderous glare, but he didn’t protest, quietly following Ooshiba around the corner and only pulling his arm away when Ooshiba let go of his wrist. His head was still kept low, dark hair falling into his face, damp and messy from running, obscuring his eyes. “What do you want, Kiichi?”

Ooshiba gazed down at him, searching for words. He wanted to ask him so much, tell him so many things that he barely knew where to begin.

“What happened?” he said at last. “Between you and Captain.”

Kimishita flinched, but he kept his head low. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie! Something happened, you’ve been fucking weird all day!” Ooshiba clenched his fists like an annoyed child. “What’s wrong?”

Kimishita glared at the patch of moss creeping over the concrete. “None of your business!”

Of course he wouldn’t want to tell him, Ooshiba thought with a pang in his chest. Even after he had told him he knew, even after offering his support, even after everything that had happened yesterday, Kimishita was still refusing to open up to him.

“You don’t trust me.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. As soon as they were out, Ooshiba knew he had made a mistake. What was he doing? A good, supportive friend wasn’t supposed to–

“Don’t be stupid.”

Kimishita’s voice was heavy as he spoke, laden with guilt and something like regret. He swallowed audibly, and then he finally raised his head and looked up, dark, intense eyes meeting with Ooshiba’s own.

“I trust you, Kiichi,” he said, the tone of his voice almost affectionate. “The one I don’t trust is myself.”

Ooshiba didn’t answer. His heart was twisting into knots at Kimishita’s words, his quiet, ashamed, unfairly kind voice.

“If you insist on knowing,” Kimishita continued, his tone freezing over once more, “I missed a text from Captain yesterday asking me to meet up.” His eyes narrowed. “Because I was with you.”

So that was it. Kimishita was feeling  _guilty_  for being out and missing Mizuki.

“Is that why you can’t look at him?” Ooshiba asked grimly. “‘Cause you feel like shit for having fun and relaxing?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “You won’t get it anyway, idiot!”

“I can try!”

“Try understanding this bullshit when you’ve never been in love beyond a stupid crush!”

Ooshiba staggered back as if he had been punched in the face with an icy fist. Kimishita’s words reverberated in his mind, each echo stabbing into his heart like a sharp, precise blade.

_You idiot_ , he thought, blinking back the stinging and burning in his eyes, his nails digging into the palms of his clenched hands.  _You fucking idiot, how can you be so smart and still so blind?_

“I...” His voice came out raspy. His clenched hands were shaking at his side. “I can still listen. Even if I don’t get it.”

Kimishita met his eyes again. For a moment confusion crossed his face, then his bitter scowl came back full force. “I don’t talk about emotional bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Ooshiba said bitterly, “you suffer alone and feel like shit and make everyone worry.” Kimishita’s eyes opened wide for the tiniest fraction of a second. “Just tell Captain what happened. He’s not gonna hate you.”

Kimishita sighed through gritted teeth. “What useless boyfriend ignores a text for hours because he’s out having fun with someone else, huh?”

“Say I started it!”

“And roll off the blame instead of taking it like I should? Don’t be stupid!”

“I’m gonna talk to Captain!”

“No!” Kimishita glared up at him with a mixture of fury and terror. “I’m not a kid anymore, I can do this alone!”

“Then fucking do it!”

“I’m trying!”

Kimishita sighed and turned away, running a tired hand through his hair. “This is stupid,” he muttered, walking off along the gym wall. “I’m leaving. And you leave me alone. No  _Finding Nemo_ , no aquariums, no Skytrees, nothing. Mind your own business, moron.”

Ooshiba spun after him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean–” Kimishita whipped around to glare at him with nothing but impatient anger in his eyes– “that none of this would have happened if you hadn’t gone about  _distracting me!_ ”

Distracting. Of course.

He had expected to hear this word, but it still hurt him.

“Is that all I am to you?” he burst out, his voice and whole body shaking like an erupting volcano. “A fucking distraction?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “What do you expect, huh?”

_A lot of things._

A lot of things that Ooshiba could never tell Kimishita. Not as long as things were like this.

Swallowing hard, he lowered his head and marched up to Kimishita, resting a hand on his shoulder as he brushed past him. “Then I’m gonna become the best distraction ever,” he whispered. “Just you watch me.”


	15. Understanding

Kimishita was left with a strange feeling lingering in his gut.

He didn’t turn around as Kiichi walked past him, his steps fading into the distance until the world around him was silent once more. The spot where Kiichi’s hand had brushed his shoulder still felt odd, as if a shadow of the touch was lingering on his skin even now that Kiichi himself was gone. On instinct he reached up and rubbed his hand over his shoulder, his eyes trailing emptily into the distance.

What had been the meaning of this?

He didn’t quite understand it, but Kiichi had sounded... upset. Pained, almost. As if he had been trying hard to rein in his emotions as they threatened to overflow, his eyes bright and hardened with pain throughout their whole conversation.

Kiichi? Restraining his emotions? When he seemed to be feeling  _so much_ , no less?

Something had changed. Kiichi had changed, slowly leaving behind the thoughtless, impulsive idiot he had always been and morphing into someone Kimishita didn’t fully understand yet, someone who used his head and kept his feelings in check and tried to be considerate of others. He was growing into the person he had always had the potential to be, and Kimishita didn’t know what to make of it.

This new Kiichi was confusing him. He didn’t know what he was thinking anymore, and even when he had his emotions written all over his face Kimishita still couldn’t get over the feeling that he was hiding something. Something Kimishita couldn’t put his finger on, but it seemed big, important, maybe more important than anything Kiichi was telling him out loud.

And yet, at the same time, he was proud of Kiichi. He didn’t know what had started his sudden change in attitude, but he was proud of his growth. Proud that, at long last, Kiichi had finally started to act less like a grade schooler and more like a seventeen-year-old, growing into his giant body mentally and emotionally. This was the Kiichi Kimishita had always hoped to see, because he had always known that he had to be hidden in there, somewhere, buried beneath the entitlement and idiocy and waiting to be let out. And as his long-time teammate, as his friend, he was proud of him.

_Friend..._

A pang of guilt shot through his chest. Kiichi was his friend, and he wanted to spend time with him. He wanted Kimishita to trust him, open up to him. And Kimishita... Kimishita had tried to push him off, just because he’d been blaming himself for missing Mizuki’s text.

Had he just made another big mistake?

Kimishita closed his eyes, and immediately Kiichi’s face appeared in his mind again, his voice ringing in his ears.  _You don’t trust me._

He’d been worried about Mizuki for so long... but should he perhaps start worrying about Kiichi too? He never really had, he realized. Ever since life had thrown them into the same high school he had started taking him for granted, knowing that no matter how badly they fought, in the end they would always put aside their differences and follow each other through hell. Their bond had felt unbreakable, and it wasn’t until he had started dating Mizuki that Kimishita had realized how fragile it could be.

_Is that all I am to you? A fucking distraction?_

_Then I’m gonna become the best distraction ever._

That was a challenge, wasn’t it? A challenge and a much-needed wake-up call. Mizuki might be his number one, but did he really want to look perfect in front of him at the cost of losing his middle school partner, the one idiot who knew him better than anyone else?

_Could_  he even look perfect in front of Mizuki if he didn’t have Kiichi around?

Kimishita blinked. He had calmed down, he realized. Kiichi’s words, his voice and face were still heavy on his conscience, but somehow their argument had cleared out his mind. He was no longer panicking about Mizuki as much. The guilt and nervousness were still there, but they had faded to the back of his mind, overshadowed by the voice of reason that Kiichi had finally managed to rouse from its sleep.

Kiichi was right. He was just blaming himself for having fun. He should just talk to Mizuki instead of fussing about it so much, that would only make him look even more like an idiot. If he kept avoiding Mizuki like he had just now, the captain would just start thinking he might have been the one to make a mistake, or he would think Kimishita was angry at him for some reason. Definitely better to explain everything and get it over with before making things between them even more awkward.

He couldn’t believe this. Usually he had been the reasonable one between him and Kiichi, but lately it seemed like Kiichi was getting pretty good at bringing his feet back to the ground too. If they hadn’t talked just now, how long would it have taken him to clear his mind? Probably much longer. And back when he had confessed to Mizuki...

Back then it had also been Kiichi who calmed him down, hadn’t it?

\---

Kimishita half wondered if Mizuki wouldn’t show up for lunch break today.

If he was in the captain’s place, he knew he certainly wouldn’t. If he was the one with a boyfriend who had never answered his text and was now avoiding him, he’d stay out of his way while asking himself if he had made a mistake and if he had done anything to make his boyfriend angry. But he wasn’t Mizuki. And Mizuki, honest, kind-hearted and simple-minded, would definitely try to ask him directly before jumping to conclusions.

But today Kimishita didn’t want to wait for Mizuki to show up. He was the one who had brought himself into this awkward situation, and he couldn’t keep relying on Mizuki to solve it for him the way he had relied on him for basically everything up until now. If he wanted to talk to Mizuki, he couldn’t wait for the captain to reach out to him again when he was the one who’d been cutting him off all morning.

So he didn’t hesitate when the bell rang. He gathered up his things, got up, and walked out of the classroom, heading towards the third-year classrooms, trying to shut down his nerves.

_Just tell Captain what happened,_  Kiichi’s voice resonated in his mind.  _He’s not gonna hate you._

He knew. But it was going to be embarrassing, embarrassing to no end. And he didn’t know what would be more embarrassing, explaining what happened or admitting that he had made such a fuss over a simple missed text.

Still, it had to be done. It was better than making Mizuki worry even more.

Setting his jaw, he picked up his pace, pushing through a group of first-years and making his way to the third-year classrooms, scanning the hallway. If Mizuki had already left his classroom, he didn’t seem to be here. That meant he most probably hadn’t. Mizuki’s classroom... He was in class 3-5, wasn’t he? Then–

“Kimishita?”

He almost jumped out of his skin. The voice behind him was horribly familiar, and it belonged to the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Usui-senpai,” he said stiffly as he turned around, facing the ever-smiling vice-captain who looked like he was reading every single thought that crossed his mind. “What’s... the matter?”

“Nothing special,” Usui replied, still wearing that unreadable smile on his face. “It’s rare to see you here, that’s all.”

Kimishita inched backwards, his eyes darting about in search of an escape route, futile as he knew it was in front of Usui. “I suppose so.”

“What are you doing here?” Usui said, ignoring his rising panic to look as unfazed as ever. “Looking for Mizuki, I expect?”

Kimishita blushed, but he wasn’t surprised. Usui knew everything about everyone; of course he would be the first to catch on to whatever was going on between Kimishita and Mizuki. “Yes,” he said in the calmest voice he could manage, trying to act like he was just here to see Mizuki for something that didn’t involve messy feelings, the team’s playmaker seeking to talk to the captain and ace. “I need to talk to him. Is he here?”

Usui looked around and peered into the 3-5 classroom, then shook his head with a fake-apologetic smile. “Seems like he left,” he said calmly. “Would you maybe like me to pass on a message for you?”

This guy... He was doing that on purpose, wasn’t he?

“No, thank you!” Kimishita replied, a little louder than he intended, his cheeks turning several shades pinker. “I mean...” he added awkwardly as Usui continued looking at him with those all-perceiving eyes, “I’d like to talk to Captain in person, if that’s possible.”

Usui raised an eyebrow but refrained from making any remarks, leaving Kimishita to wonder if that was a good or a bad thing as he squirmed under Usui’s stare, feeling an awful lot like he was being judged. Then the vice-captain smiled again and pointed to the classroom door with a graceful, inviting gesture.

“You can wait here,” he said. “I’m going to get him back, I think I know where he went. Give me a minute.”

Kimishita opened his mouth to protest that he could easily find the captain himself, but before he could utter a word Usui was gone, leaving him in front of the open classroom door.

Third-years passed him by, some of them throwing him curious looks, probably wondering what a second-year was doing standing around here all by himself. He shot glares at some of them and watched as they turned away and hurried along the hallway, his eyes darting from side to side in the hopes of seeing Mizuki turn the nearest corner, searching, waiting. He didn’t enter the classroom like Usui had invited him to. One glance through the door had sufficed to spot Haibara with a cheery-looking girl who was a full head taller than him, as well as Inohara and his girlfriend, and the last thing he needed right now were more curious questions from his upperclassmen.

The minutes ticked by, and Kimishita was starting to wonder if even Usui wouldn’t be able to find Mizuki after all when the hallway door swung open, and inside ran a slightly breathless, familiar figure.

“Cap–” Kimishita began to say just as Mizuki came to a stop in front of him, his hair messed up as if he had sprinted all the way here, his cheeks flushed, his lunch still resting in one hand. Kimishita’s face heated up.  _Cute._

“Kimishita,” Mizuki said as soon as he had enough breath to speak. “Sorry to make you wait. I thought you were in your classroom.”

This guy... After the cold shoulder Kimishita had given him all day, he had still...?!

_You idiot,_  Kimishita wanted to say.  _Why were you looking for me? Were you not mad that I treated you like air all morning? You’re even stupider than I thought!_

But he couldn’t say that here. They were in public, and somebody could walk past and eavesdrop on their private conversation anytime. This was the last place where he could talk openly about everything that had been troubling his mind.

“I need to talk to you,” he said instead. “Alone.”

Mizuki looked a little confused but nodded, following as Kimishita navigated them through the crowd and onto the roof, carefully checking to make sure they were alone. It was freezing cold outside, and the wind was creeping under their clothes and pulling at their hair, but at least there was no risk of anyone walking in and interrupting them here.

Mizuki looked around, then stuffed his free hand deep into his pocket, looking confused and a little chilly. “Can we talk now?”

“Y-Yes.” Damn it, Kimishita could already feel his confidence slipping away once more.  _Calm down,_  he told himself.  _Don’t act like an idiot. Cool and mature... cool and mature..._

Kiichi’s face flickered through his mind.  _Just tell Captain what happened._

Kimishita took a breath, letting the mental image of Kiichi linger in front of his eyes, taking comfort in his presence, imaginary as it was. The shaky feeling subsided. He was doing the right thing, he reminded himself. All he had to do was speak out.

“First of all... I’m sorry about yesterday.”

The words tumbled off his tongue like rocks, awkward, clumsy and oddly heavy. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Mizuki. Some part of him still felt stupid, like a child confessing a wrongdoing to their parent or teacher, and he wasn’t sure if he felt more stupid about admitting his mistake or feeling so stupid in the first place. But Kiichi’s words still rang on in his mind, and he gathered himself and went on, a scowl on his face to put a mask on his insecurities. He owed that to both of them, Mizuki and Kiichi alike.

“I... was busy all day yesterday,” he said slowly, wondering how much he should say, which parts he should hide. “It was... a friend. He wanted something from me and it took all day. When I saw it it was already too late.” He clicked his tongue. “And it was our first weekend too...”

“Oh...” Mizuki’s voice was hesitant, thoughtful, as if he was still processing Kimishita’s words as he spoke. “Sorry.”

Kimishita’s head snapped upright. “What are  _you_  apologizing for?”

“Should I not?”

Oh, this was awkward. This was a million times more awkward than Kimishita had ever dared to imagine. He’d rather have Mizuki angry at him than... whatever the hell  _this_  was supposed to be.

“Of course not!” he snapped irritably, his face burning with fire. “What could you even have done that calls for an apology, huh?”

Mizuki blinked, taken aback, and Kimishita gave a jolt. What was he doing, lashing out at him? They weren’t discussing passing strategies on the pitch!

“Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding Mizuki’s gaze once more. “I didn’t mean–”

“I thought I should have tried to reach you again.”

Kimishita blinked numbly. “What?”

“I just waited for you to text back,” Mizuki said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I should’ve called or gone to look for you. Then you wouldn’t have noticed so late.”

As always, he was way too kind. Couldn’t he just let Kimishita take the blame in peace for once and be done with it?

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “The problem was me. I let that idiot sweep me along even though I should’ve known you might text or call.”

“Oh...” Mizuki still looked unconvinced. “But that’s okay. Your friend needed you.”

One sentence. That was all it had taken to make Kimishita feel even worse.

Should he tell the truth?  _He didn’t need me. He just went along with a stupid whim of his brain and kidnapped me to a fucking tourist spot and I let him and actually had fun. I missed our first weekend because some idiot decided it was a good day to suddenly show up at my doorstep and ask me to hang out._

But he didn’t say anything. No reason to make himself look worse when Mizuki was so readily willing to forgive him and forget the whole ordeal, like he himself wished he could. So he just gave a soft sigh, stared at the wall behind Mizuki and nodded.

“I guess.”

“Good.” Mizuki gave a thumbs-up. “Then, would you like to do something this weekend?”

Kimishita’s heart skipped a beat. “Wha–?!”

He shouldn’t be surprised, not with the way their conversation had gone. Mizuki had asked him yesterday after all, even if he had been too shocked and guilty to feel anything else back then. And yet, now that Mizuki had spoken it out, he couldn’t stop the nervous flutter of excitement in his chest as his cheeks flushed a telltale pink. “You don’t have to!” he burst out, covering up his embarrassment with annoyance. “You should use your time on other–”

“I’m free,” Mizuki cut him off. “Do you want to?”

A date. Mizuki was proposing a date. And he was asking him if he wanted to? What kind of question was that?

“Obviously,” Kimishita grumbled, the scowl on his face deepening. “What do you think I worried about your message for?”

Mizuki gave a satisfied nod. “Then, where should we go?”

As if he could answer that. How was he supposed to know what the captain would like to see, aside from soccer? Would it be okay to suggest an obvious date spot? If they made it too obvious... no, he wouldn’t think about that. “I don’t know,” he grumbled. “You suggest something.”

“It’s okay, you can do it.”

“I don’t want to suggest something you don’t like!”

“I like everything.”

“You can’t just–”

“Everything is fun if you’re with the right people.” Mizuki put on an oddly enlightened face. “My grandfather used to say that.”

Kimishita looked at him for an incredibly long moment. Then he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and gave in. “Fine. I’ll think of something.”

Mizuki gave a tiny smile, and for a moment Kimishita forgot that he had been burdened with a huge and rather terrifying responsibility. For a short moment all he felt was a jittery sensation in his stomach, butterflies and warmth and giddy excitement. Less than a week. In less than a week he would go somewhere with Mizuki, spend the day off together on the first date in his life. And anxious as he was, he couldn’t help looking forward to it so much it made his head spin.

Kiichi had been right, he realized. Mizuki hadn’t been mad at him. It had been good to approach him and try to talk things out, even if he hadn’t told him the whole story. Avoiding him would have led nowhere, and now he had a date scheduled for the weekend, all just because he had listened to Kiichi and gathered his courage and talked to him.

It was strange, but he didn’t think he would have managed this without Kiichi’s help. Without talking to Kiichi he might not have calmed down all day, or even all week. Without Kiichi’s voice ringing in his ears he might never have gathered the courage to go up to Mizuki and apologize for his mess-up.

Kiichi had started this whole mess, sure. But Kiichi had somehow succeeded at making him feel better, too.

And the time he had been a bundle of raw nerves before confessing to Mizuki... the time he had forced a smile around him until he collapsed, and Kiichi got him out... and even yesterday when he had felt no motivation to do anything... all those times it had been Kiichi who had calmed him down, cheered him up, brought a smile back to his face and kept him grounded when he thought a situation was too big for him or messed up beyond repair.

Without Kiichi he might already have lost his mind.

_Fine,_  he thought as he sat down next to Mizuki, unwrapping his lunch and tucking strands of hair behind his ears to keep the wind from blowing them into his face.  _I guess opening up to you won’t hurt after all, idiot. Just every once in a while._


	16. Honesty

“What do you want here?”

Kimishita looked around the room, feeling oddly stupid and out of place. It had been half a year since he had last come here, he realized, and back then it had been with half the team. He had never felt comfortable in this house; it was too big, too bright, too shiny, a place that had nothing to do with his life or his world, making him feel small and lost and afraid of touching anything in this flawless image. And yet his feet had carried him here today without a second thought.

He felt strange. But the house wasn’t the only reason why.

Pushing down his pride, he sighed and looked up at Kiichi’s face, the very face that now looked so bitter and hostile that it felt like a punch in the face. Part of him wanted to get angry. What was this idiot glaring at him for? He had only come here to talk to him in peace, and Kiichi looked like he was seriously contemplating to shut the door in his face and lock him out of his room! This idiot could at least listen to what he had to say before getting angry!

And yet, deep down, Kimishita knew that he probably deserved it.

“What does it look like?” he grumbled, unable to meet Kiichi’s gaze. “I want to talk to you, idiot.”

“Why?”

“That’s–”

Kimishita stared at the ground. He had no idea where to begin.

Kiichi turned and walked away without closing the door, coming to stand at the window, stubbornly staring outside. His shoulders were tense, as if trying to hold a great weight, his whole body and silhouette burdened with frustration, his hands stuffed into his pockets in a stubborn attempt at spite. “What?” he asked defiantly. “I thought you didn’t wanna talk to me anymore.”

“Kiichi, about that–”

“I thought I was just a distraction.” Sadness mingled into Kiichi’s voice, soft and fragile, shooting through Kimishita’s heart with a sharp pang of guilt. “Do you want me to distract you from anything? I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna distract you from everything... just ask.”

There was no sarcasm in his voice, no accusation, not anymore. Kimishita swallowed hard. This was a genuine offer. Kiichi meant every word.

_What have I been doing?_

Kimishita clenched his fists. What in the world had he been doing to Kiichi? How awful and inconsiderate did he have to be to make Kiichi act like this, abandoning his bratty, spiteful attitude so completely? How badly did he have to treat him to make him act like a neglected, lonely, pleading child?

“...You were right.”

Kiichi didn’t turn around, but a tiny fraction of the sadness had faded from his quiet voice when he spoke again. “About what?”

“A lot of things.” Kimishita took a deep breath and crossed the distance between them, coming to stand at Kiichi’s side, close enough to touch, staring at his reflection in the window. “Almost everything.”

He lifted his head to glance up at Kiichi from the corner of his eye. The old Kiichi wouldn’t let such rare praise go over his head, he knew. The old Kiichi would stick his nose up in the air with a smug smile, proudly declaring that he was always right about everything. But right now there was no trace of smugness, no stupid remarks. All Kiichi did was glance down at him with a sliver of hope in his bright turquoise eyes.

_It’s okay, idiot. Please stop looking at me like that. Everything’s all right._

Kimishita just barely stopped himself from saying all that out loud. Kiichi’s eyes were cutting into his soul, ripping apart his self-restraint, freeing the almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and ruffle his hair and pat his back until the sadness in his gaze disappeared. The desire to comfort him, to protect him was nearly overwhelming.

So he did the only thing he could do, the only thing he knew that might make Kiichi feel a little better. He kept talking, no matter what his shame and pride had to say against it.

“I talked to Captain, just like you said,” he muttered, watching the sky turn a darker shade of blue-gray as the last light of the cloudy day faded behind the horizon. “He... didn’t mind that I missed his text. He even said he was sorry... for not trying to reach me again, or something stupid like that. But we arranged a date. Next weekend.”

Kiichi stood next to him in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“You... were right to tell me to talk to him.” Kimishita swallowed, trying to ignore the burning shame trying to force its way onto his face, willing his voice to keep steady. “If you hadn’t talked to me earlier, I don’t think I would’ve done it on my own. So...” He looked up, trying to meet Kiichi’s eyes, but Kiichi was still staring quietly at the window. “Thanks for that, idiot.”

“Mhm.”

Kimishita glanced up, waiting for Kiichi to say something else, but he was silent once more, hands in his pockets, staring out into the ever-darkening sky.

_Say something,_  Kimishita wanted to say.  _Let me know my words are reaching you! If you don’t show a response, how am I supposed to know if I’m just standing here talking to myself?_

He took a deep breath and turned around, leaving the window behind to fully face Kiichi, even if his friend didn’t do the same. He didn’t think about what he was saying anymore. All he knew was that he needed to tell him everything, everything Kiichi deserved to hear after saving his life so many times. “I wouldn’t have managed a lot of things without talking to you.” His face burned hotter, and he clicked his tongue. “Or without you talking to me. So... maybe you are a distraction, but distractions aren’t always bad... I guess. Sometimes... they might be necessary.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I take back what I said about leaving me alone. Actually...”

He raised his head, trying to catch Kiichi’s eye and failing. An odd feeling twisted in his chest, one that he couldn’t name or recognize.

“If your offer still stands... Kiichi, will you let me tell you about it from now on?”

Kiichi’s eyes snapped open. With a small surprised noise he turned around, gazing down at Kimishita with wide, round eyes, his mouth slightly open, his entire face so amazed and incredulous and vulnerable that he looked like a child despite his giant build. His lips were trembling a little, opening and closing as if trying to form silent words. Kimishita gave him what he hoped was an encouraging look, and Kiichi took a shaky breath and gave a powerful, vigorous nod.

“Sure,” he said softly. “Of course.”

Kimishita looked at him and felt oddly light. The more prideful part of him kept insisting that he was making a mistake, that opening up and talking about such a private and sensitive subject would be nothing but an embarrassment, but the words fell flat. As he looked up at Kiichi’s face, all he could feel was intense, overwhelming relief, washing over him in a giant wave that swept off the burden he had carried around on his shoulders for way too long.

He wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t try to deal with all this alone anymore. Kiichi was with him to keep him sane and grounded when he felt like he was going mad, to make him smile when he felt like he would never be happy again. And no matter what happened, no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to give any of that up again.

He had learned that lesson now, thank you very much.

\---

They sat together for what felt like an eternity. Kimishita didn’t look at Ooshiba as he spoke, tense at first, halting, staring at his hands as he recounted the story of everything, his voice oddly distant, as if he was talking about a distant acquaintance. He didn’t go into detail. He didn’t bring up his emotions any more than necessary. All he did was recount everything that had happened, stating the facts with quiet clarity.

Ooshiba didn’t interrupt him. He just listened as Kimishita confirmed the parts of the story he had only guessed so far, calmly spoke about realizations, misunderstandings, agreements. Little by little the tension in his body disappeared, his words flowing more easily as the pieces of his story started to fit together, forming an increasingly complete picture.

Then, at long last, he leaned back and closed his eyes, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow with a half-taunting, half-tired smirk. “That’s about what happened. Laugh if you want.”

Ooshiba looked at him for a very long moment. There he went again, playing down his own feelings until the last possible moment, acting as if liking someone was somehow a weakness worth mocking him for. As if Ooshiba could ever make fun of him for being so hopelessly, desperately in love that he was willing to do anything, even if it meant driving his own happiness against the wall.

“I’m not gonna laugh,” he said softly.

Kimishita opened an eye to catch a glimpse of his expression.

“What’s with the serious face?” he asked. “Don’t blow this out of proportion, idiot. I got caught up in an absurd bunch of soap opera bullshit is all.”

Ooshiba shook his head. “It’s not bullshit! It’s just feelings.”

“Stupid feelings.”

“They’re  _your_  feelings.” Ooshiba frowned, and Kimishita opened his other eye to blink at him in mild surprise. “You just think they’re stupid ‘cause you think too much.”

Kimishita snorted. “I won’t hear that from the idiot who never thinks at all.”

“Then you can’t tell me I feel too much,” Ooshiba replied with his arms crossed. Part of him wondered what he was talking about, saying all these things that sounded so frighteningly logical that they would fit Kimishita much better than him, but his intuition told him he was right, and his intuition had never been wrong in his life. “You say I’m too emo when you act like you don’t need feelings, so I can tell you you think too much when I feel like it.”

“That’s–” Kimishita sat up straight, his voice ready to argue, then he sighed and slumped back down, closing his eyes once more. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that actually makes sense.”

“‘Course it does. I always make sense.”

“That sentence alone is proof that you don’t.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“That means that your previous sentence was an oxymoron, but of course you don’t know what that means because you never pay attention in class!”

“Who you calling an oxy moron, asshole!”

Kimishita smirked and simply motioned to him. “Case in point.”

Ooshiba tried to pout, but he couldn’t quite manage to hide the grin threatening to take over his face. “Fuck you too,” he said without really meaning it. Sitting here next to Kimishita, exchanging friendly insults and sarcastic remarks, felt strangely light-hearted after everything that had happened afterwards, light-hearted in the same way he had felt at the aquarium. It was odd, somehow. Part of him was simply happy, happy that they were at least temporarily back to normal, but the other part of him couldn’t help feeling a little wistful. As if this happiness was only temporary, and the outside world was just lingering on the doorstep, ready to come crashing down on their heads at the next chance it got.

He just hoped it would take time. He just wanted to enjoy this moment a little longer, without any fights or misunderstandings or reminders that they only looked like they felt the same way about each other when his own feelings were the only ones that ran much deeper. Just a little more of this temporary happiness, that was all he asked for.

“But in this you might be right,” Kimishita said after a moment’s silence, the lightheartedness fading from his voice once more. “Next time you catch me thinking too much, tell me. Looks like I need your outside view to keep me grounded in this giant clusterfuck.”

_Outside view._  Ooshiba swallowed. He wished that was true. Viewing that whole business from the outside, unbiased, would be so much easier. But he was here, caught up in the middle of it, desperate, heartbroken and terribly biased. And still Kimishita didn’t suspect a single thing.

_And I’m not gonna tell you._

He closed his eyes. There was no way he was letting those feelings show. Kimishita was coming to him because he thought of him as a good friend who could keep him grounded through his outside view. If he found out the truth he would stop opening up to him once more, and that was the last thing Ooshiba wanted. Not when he had just got him to confide in him at all. No, he would hide it well, pretend to see it all from outside and savor these moments, the smiles and playful teasing, the trust Kimishita had in him. Having him like this was a hundred times better than not having him at all, even if it was still half a lie.

“Okay,” he said with a half-hearted shrug. “I’m gonna tell you next time you need to stop using your head.”

Kimishita gave him a half-playful, half-threatening grin. “Using the opportunity to throw my words back at me, are we?”

Ooshiba looked unapologetic. “Yup.”

“You...!”

“Don’t use your head, Kimishita!” Ooshiba growled, mimicking Kimishita’s expression and voice. “Don’t use your head, your head!”

“Ah? I do not sound like that!”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You can’t even reach me.”

“Oh yeah?” Kimishita clicked his tongue and climbed onto the back of the couch, grabbing a cushion and holding it over Ooshiba’s head with a threatening smirk. “How about now, huh?”

Ooshiba simply stood up where he was. “Oh sorry, I can’t hear you from up here.”

“Well, Kiichi–” Kimishita stood up on the back rest, balancing precariously on the edge– “how’s the weather down there?”

Ooshiba simply reached down and grabbed a cushion, trying to hit Kimishita in the face. Kimishita dodged and hit him in turn, a fluffy cloud of feathers flying up in the air as the soft pillow collided with his face. His face full of fluff, Ooshiba tried to retaliate, missed again, lost balance, grabbed Kimishita’s sleeve to steady himself, and sent them both tumbling back down on the couch.

Kimishita made a startled noise and tried to balance them out, dropping his cushion to steady himself against the couch. They had landed across from each other; Ooshiba sat sprawled with his back against the armrest, and Kimishita was half sitting on Ooshiba’s knee, one elbow propped somewhere between his shoulder and chest and poking into his ribcage. Their faces were closer than they had been in ages, staring at each other in startled surprise, and Ooshiba found himself counting the dark, graceful lashes around Kimishita’s widened green eyes.

It would cost him nothing to reach out now, touch that chiseled face, pull it closer... nothing except his trust and their friendship.

“Get off me,” he grumbled, turning away and hoping he wasn’t blushing again. “You’re heavy.”

The amusement hadn’t faded from Kimishita’s voice yet. “Says the guy who called me a noodle just a week ago,” she said. “Maybe you should train harder.”

Ooshiba couldn’t help smirking. “Maybe you got fat in that one week.”

“Maybe I got  _stronger_.” Kimishita cracked his knuckles. “Strong enough to break your stupid neck.”

“In your dreams. I could push you off this couch with one hand.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Sure can.” Ooshiba smiled smugly. “I bet I could even push Cap–”

The smile disappeared from his face. He didn’t have to look at Kimishita to know he had made a mistake.

Why? Why had he brought Mizuki up? They’d been having so much fun... Kimishita had looked so happy, and now–

But Kimishita stayed oddly calm as he finally scrambled off Ooshiba’s knee and leaned back. “He could’ve pushed you down before you even finished that sentence,” he said, closing his eyes. “Not that he’d try, I guess. The only person he’d push is Indou-san.”

A shadow of envy flitted over Kimishita’s face, and Ooshiba swallowed. He understood this feeling, instinctively. He knew Kimishita well enough to know what he was thinking.  _At least Indou-san is special to Captain in some way, even if it’s negatively._

“Captain wouldn’t push you ‘cause he likes you,” he said awkwardly.

Kimishita blinked and scowled at him. “Ah? Don’t think I want to be pushed, idiot!”

_Nah,_  Ooshiba thought,  _you’re already pushing yourself. Don’t need anybody else to do the job._

But he didn’t say that out loud, and Kimishita closed his eyes once more, running a tired hand through his dark hair. “I still have to pick out a date spot for this weekend, huh,” he muttered, half sounding like he was talking to himself. “What a pain. Can’t the idiot just pick a spot himself and not bother me with this responsibility? Like I don’t already have enough on my plate...”

Ooshiba dangled his leg off the edge of the couch. Without meaning to he had started thinking with Kimishita, going through a list of possible ideas in his head, places where he’d want to go, places he had thought of taking Kimishita to someday– no, he couldn’t think of that now. He couldn’t think of himself either. This was between Kimishita and Mizuki. He had to think about them.

“How ‘bout a movie?” he said at last.

Kimishita opened an eye. “A movie?”

“Yup.” Ooshiba didn’t even think about what he was saying. “It’s easy, it’s got food, you don’t gotta talk much, and after the movie you can talk ‘bout how you liked it.” He shrugged. “Less awkward.”

Kimishita opened his other eye. For a moment he stared at Ooshiba in amazement, then he nodded slowly, his face confused and disbelieving. “That’s... not a bad idea.”

Ooshiba put on a smug face. “I know, right.”

“Shut up.” Kimishita pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping around on the screen. “I’ll check if there’s anything acceptable on right now.”

Ooshiba nodded, watching numbly as Kimishita stared at his phone, quietly cursing the bad connection until Ooshiba took it from his hands and connected it to his home wifi. Their hands quickly brushed together as he handed it back, and once again Ooshiba caught himself wondering what the hell he was doing.

He was beyond just being nice by now. He was beyond just calming Kimishita down and letting him relax in between all his troubles with Mizuki. He was actively supporting him now, providing ideas for a date spot that would make the date go over as well as possible. If this had been just about him, he would have sabotaged their relationship long ago. He would have sent Kimishita someplace where things were bound to be awkward with Mizuki and hoped that he finally understood how bad this relationship was for him and left. He would have hoped that the date crashed and burned. But this wasn’t about him alone. Kimishita was counting on his help. And little as it was, he couldn’t find himself able to let go of this bit of trust, the way Kimishita finally opened up to him in ways he wouldn’t to anyone else. He might not be Kimishita’s number one right now, but he was special. And even if it meant hurting himself, he didn’t have it in him to give that up, now or ever.

Maybe this was what love meant. Wanting to be with someone, wanting to see them happy, at all costs, even if it meant hurting himself over and over and over again. Madly, desperately, irrevocably.

Maybe... he understood how Kimishita felt, somehow.

His heart gave a lurch. Kimishita must be feeling the same about Mizuki. That was why he kept putting himself through this hell. That was why, right now, Ooshiba didn’t stand the sliver of a chance with him.

How strong were Kimishita’s feelings? What if they were as strong as Ooshiba’s... what if they would never go away?

He stared at Kimishita’s serious, focused face and clenched his fists in his lap.  _Easy,_  he thought. If Kimishita’s feelings for Mizuki never went away... then he would simply become the consolation.

He was already pretty much doing that, after all.


	17. Snow

Was he too early?

Kimishita glanced at his watch, feeling more tense than before any match he could ever remember playing, more tense than any powerhouse opponent had ever made him. His entire body was charged with electricity, a wire at its limit, ready to snap at any moment. His heartbeat was a booming bass in his ears, blaring from giant speakers that seemed to stand next to his ears. His hands felt like they were wrapped in gloves made of cold, clammy drizzle. His legs had turned into those of a robot, mechanically pacing back and forth in front of the movie theater as his eyes darted over the crowd, back and forth, forth and back again like a tiger in a cage.

He was definitely too early. They weren’t supposed to meet until almost an hour later, but he hadn’t managed to stay at home a single second longer. The hours before had been torture. He had woken up long before the sun was up, lying in bed staring at the ceiling until he had given up every last hope of getting more sleep, jumped out of bed, walked to the window, back to the bed, then to the bathroom, then back to his room, standing in front of his drawer, pulling out all his clothes, wondering what to wear. Should he try to dress up? People were supposed to dress up for a date, right? He vaguely remembered Kiichi telling him to dress nicely, but how nice was overdone? He couldn’t look like he was trying too hard. Would Mizuki even care what he wore? Probably not... but if he dressed up too much, would others notice that they were on a date? And did he want them to?

At long last he had given up, thrown on the newest set of clothes he found, tried to tame his hair, decided halfway in that it would just be messy again by the time he left, and reluctantly joined his father in eating breakfast. The rest of the day had been a blur of running all over the place doing errands for his father, accepting task after task after task trying to keep everything off his mind, before finally ending up in front of the bathroom mirror once more, wishing he had something to tie back his hair that seemed even messier than usual and hoping the shadows under his eyes weren’t too noticeable.

And now he was here, fifty-five minutes early, pacing back and forth and trying to calm his nerves.

_Relax,_  he told himself.  _This is stupid. We’re only going to the movies, no need to panic so much._

People started throwing him glances, and he swallowed. He was starting to look weird. Better find someplace to sit and wait quietly... no. Even the thought of sitting down made the jittery feeling in his chest spread out, tugging and twitching anxiously in his entire body.

_Keep calm... keep calm..._

He just hoped Mizuki would be on time. Fifty-three more minutes... If he had to wait a single second longer than that, he might just explode on the spot. Or implode. Collapse on himself and disappear into nothing on the spot, tumble out of existence and forget about everything that ever happened.

But now that he thought about it, how likely was it that Mizuki would be on time? He still had no sense of direction. It would be only natural if he got lost on the way and somehow ended up on the opposite end of the city before ever noticing something was wrong... Or what if he took a nap and overslept? So much could go wrong... Why on earth had they decided to meet up here? They could have met somewhere they knew better and gone here together... Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier?

Should he change his plans now? He could always give Mizuki a call and tell him to wait for him somewhere else, at the school gates maybe, or in front of the store. There was still time to avert a potential disaster and save his nerves. Before it was too late, he should definitely...

He pulled out his phone, looking through his contacts until he found Mizuki’s, then he paused. How was he supposed to explain his change of plans?  _I just remembered that you get lost everywhere so I’m taking last-minute measures because I don’t trust you to find the way?_

He sighed. Before this whole dating fiasco this would have been so easy. Back when they had still been nothing but teammates and odd companions Kimishita had never hesitated to tell Mizuki off whenever he felt he deserved it, but now that they were supposed to be a couple he didn’t know what he was still allowed to do. How rude could he be to the person who was so kind to him that he couldn’t repay it in a lifetime? He was already being ungrateful. Pulling a stunt like this now, less than an hour before the date that they had been planning for days... If anything he should have thought of it earlier. Mizuki might already have left his house... Could he really inconvenience him with this now, at the last minute? If their roles were reversed he’d be furious.

A normal couple, he mused, a normal couple might be texting back and forth now, telling each other embarrassingly sappy things like “On my way now! I’m so excited for today!” and “Can’t wait to see you!” His face heated up. The mere thought of trying to do the same with Mizuki made him shrivel up on the inside with embarrassment for them both.

Should he offer Mizuki to give him directions, maybe? Navigate him in case he got lost... Yeah, that might be a good idea. Better than–

_So eager to see him you can’t even wait for the date, huh?_

He flinched. No, that wasn’t it. Mizuki wouldn’t see it that way. That was a bunch of nonsense and he needed to relax–

_So impatient. So clingy._

So embarrassing.

He sighed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. Once again his nerves were addling his brain, getting in the way of his common sense, making him do things that were objectively stupid. And the most frustrating, the most infuriating and annoying part was that he couldn’t even turn them off.

A thought flashed through his head. Or maybe he could. If he needed to calm down, all he had to do was contact Kii–

His phone buzzed in his pocket, making his heart jump against his ribcage. With an audible gulp he snatched it and pulled it out, holding his breath for the second it took for the screen to light up. A message? Now? It couldn’t be from Mizuki, could it? What if he was going to be late? What if he didn’t have time at all? Or he could not feel like it, Kimishita wouldn’t blame him. A thousand thoughts flitted through his head, all at once, quick as lightning, before disappearing in a puff of smoke when he saw who the message was from. The sender ID read  _Idiot Kiichi_.

Kimishita grimaced at the screen. Just when he needed him... What was this guy, a psychic?

With a click of the tongue he tapped the message and found himself staring at a loading screen.

He was almost ready to close whatever nonsense Kiichi had sent him out of the blue when the loading screen vanished, and in its place appeared a short video of an extremely fluffy cat climbing into a large fish bowl and perfectly adjusting itself to the shape of the glass so that only a pair of ears and the tip of a bushy tail poked out of the otherwise perfectly round fuzzy thing. Then the mass of fur slipped along the glass and suddenly returned to the shape of a cat, sliding smoothly back out and resuming its way.

Kimishita stared at the finished video for a whole minute, then he pressed the replay button, almost expecting some kind of prank message to pop up when he did. But there was none; the fluffy cat simply slid in and out of the fish bowl the exact same way it had before.

Scowling a little, he closed the video and wrote a quick message to Kiichi.  _What the fuck_

It turned to read almost immediately, and Kiichi’s reply didn’t take much longer.  _idk sis sent me this,_  he wrote.  _u like it_

Kimishita clicked his tongue again. Typical.  _I can’t believe I’m wasting my precious data on this useless fucking video!_

_I JST THOUGHT U LIKE CATS FUKC U_

_I do, but live ones! Or videos when I have fucking wifi! Do you know how much I pay for my fucking data?_

Kimishita glanced up at the thumbnail of the cat video again, his finger hovering over the play button once more. He sighed, scowled, went pink, and then grudgingly added another message.

_...Got any more of those?_

\---

Kiichi kept sending him pictures and videos of cats for almost half an hour. At first they appeared on Kimishita’s screen one after the other in such quick succession that he could barely keep up; then, little by little, their speed slowed down until Kimishita had to wait several minutes for a new message from Kiichi, as if he had exhausted his own library of cat content and resorted to searching around for more to send to Kimishita. Kimishita simply continued to stare at his phone, tuning out everything around him, watching the fuzzy balls of fluff move around on the screen and pretending he wasn’t just waiting for something that could go wrong in so many ways that he might as well be awaiting his own execution. It was a fragile, deceptive calm, one that could be shattered at any second, and yet he continued to stand here, hoping that it would last for just a minute, just a second longer before collapsing in on itself.

He was fine. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t caught up in his own tangled, confusing feelings about Mizuki. None of it mattered. He just had to keep watching the nonsense Kiichi continued to send him, and that would continue to stay the truth.

...What was he doing?

The illusion snapped. He stared at the time, then at the street in front of him, now more crowded and busy than ever, a dazzling flash of colorful lights against the dark, clouded winter sky. The reality he had been blocking out for so long came flooding back into him, a harsh, icy slap in his face.

He was here, standing in front of the movie theater, waiting for the first date in his life, and distracting himself by watching stupid cat videos on his phone like some  _idiot_.

What if he’d become truly caught up in this? What if he hadn’t cut himself off and continued until Mizuki arrived? What if he hadn’t noticed him arriving? This was no good. This was his first date. He needed to focus on it, not just kill time with pseudo-calming nonsense to pretend he wasn’t a bundle of raw nerves.

Letting Kiichi distract him when he had to focus on Mizuki the most... Why did he keep on falling into this trap? What kind of timing sense did he have? He couldn’t keep going on like this!

So before Kiichi could send him another message, he tapped in one of his own.  _That’s enough._

He hesitated, his finger hovering over the send button. Kiichi’s hurt face flickered in front of his eyes, his voice ringing in his head.  _You don’t trust me!_

With a quiet sigh he moved his hand away from the send button, typing in another sentence:  _I’ve run out of data, nothing loading anymore._

It was a lie, of course. But it was convenient. Kiichi wouldn’t question that explanation, and Kimishita could go on with an almost clear conscience.

Kiichi didn’t respond, and Kimishita stuffed his phone back into his pocket and pulled his giant coat tighter around himself, standing and waiting. He didn’t think about texting Mizuki again. It was too late for that now. He had lost too much time distracting himself with those useless kittens, and now there was nothing he could do except wait and hope nothing went wrong.

Time crept by. The wind picked up, bringing a flurry of snow grains as people around him pulled out their umbrellas and started hurrying, either inside or along the street, headed for their destinations. Kimishita turned up his collar and tried to shield his glasses. Specks of snow settled on them anyway, and in the end he took them off, gazing into the distance as the snow grew thicker, getting caught between his eyelashes, settling in his hair.

Then, after what felt like eternities, two figures emerged from one of the streets, turning a corner, huddled under a huge black umbrella. At first he ignored them, brushing them off as yet another stupid couple who hadn’t been smart enough to stay inside in this freezing weather. Then he blinked, and the figures became suspiciously familiar.

Mizuki... and Usui?

The vice-captain lifted the umbrella to reveal their faces, and for a second his eyes met Kimishita’s. A stab shot through Kimishita’s chest. He didn’t know how they did it, but somehow these two effortlessly looked closer than he had ever been with Mizuki.

They probably were, honestly.

He shook the snow out of his hair, hoping the feeling would fall off with it. What was he getting jealous for now? Mizuki and Usui weren’t interested in each other that way, and Mizuki had chosen him. Out of kindness, but he had still chosen him.

“Captain, Usui-senpai,” he said stiffly. “Good evening.”

Mizuki gave him a friendly nod. “Good evening, Kimishita. Sorry for the wait.”

“Don’t worry, I just got here myself,” Kimishita lied, hoping the others would attribute the flush on his cheeks to the weather. What was with that dialogue? Like in a soap opera... It had to be one of the most awkward, stilted, unoriginal exchanges he had ever heard.

Mizuki smiled slightly, and Kimishita’s heart skipped a beat. Silence fell between them as a gust of wind sent a small flurry of snowflakes their way.

Kimishita glanced around, at Mizuki, then at the ground that was quickly turning white with the thickening snow. His eyes strayed to Mizuki’s shoes, and from there to Usui’s as they still looked clean and shiny even in this weather.

Usui must have noticed his gaze, because he gave a soft chuckle, stepping backwards, away from Kimishita and Mizuki. “We just ran into each other on the way here,” he said. “I offered to bring Mizuki here so he wouldn’t get lost. He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, so...” He smiled angelically, a surefire sign that he knew exactly what was going on. Kimishita really hoped no one could see his blush. “Well, you two have fun. I’ll be on my way, see you tomorrow.”

Kimishita barely had time to stutter out a response before Usui merged into the crowd and disappeared.

Another awkward silence.

“So...” Kimishita glanced at his watch, then at Mizuki, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide that he had no idea what to do with them. “Shall we go inside?”

Mizuki nodded. “Mm.”

They turned and walked out of the freezing cold into the comforting warmth of the movie theater, blinking at the blindingly bright lights. Colorful lamps and movie posters were sparkling at them from every direction, a sea of pictures wherever they looked, the sweet, welcoming scent of popcorn floating cheerfully in the air.

Kimishita stopped in the doorway, taking in the wave impressions. He hadn’t been to the movies since he was a child, and part of him still felt like one as he stood there, awed and incredulous, trying to stare at everything at once, trying to take in every detail of the lamps, the posters, the screens playing trailers and ice cream commercials.

It felt like a fairytale.

“Kimishita?”

Mizuki’s voice roused him from his daze, and he blinked, feeling his face heat up. What was he standing around spacing out for? He wasn’t a kid anymore, for crying out loud!

“Sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze. “Let’s get tickets.”

His eyes still fixed on the ground, he followed Mizuki along as they lined up, always standing at a safe distance from him so that nobody would mistake them for a couple. Neither of them spoke. Kimishita tried to think of something to say, but the only things he could think of would only made him sound like an idiot.

But this silence was idiotic too.

Kimishita took a deep breath and opened his mouth, only to close it again with a resigned exhale. His insides were jittery. All words were stuck in a giant knot in his head, stupid and incomprehensible even to him.

What did people even talk about on a date? The same things as everyone else? Something special? And if he knew, should he talk more like someone on a date? This was one after all... but...

No good. He didn’t know anyway.

They moved up in line, still standing a foot apart, and then it was their turn. Before Kimishita could say a word Mizuki bought two tickets and paid, turning to go as Kimishita stumbled after him.

“You shouldn’t have paid for my ticket!” he whisper-shouted as he caught up with the captain, striding alongside him with long paces to keep up. “Hold on, I’ll repay you–”

Mizuki shook his head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! You don’t need to pay for me when you’re already–”

“Sweet or salty popcorn, Kimishita?”

“Wha– Listen to me, Captain!”

They were steering towards one of the snack booths, the scent of fresh popcorn wafting over and making his stomach growl, even if he felt like he couldn’t swallow a single bite if he tried. Mizuki was already studying the display as though wondering what to get when Kimishita’s words made him look up again.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said.

Kimishita paused, frowning, his heart skipping a beat. Had he made a mistake of some kind? “Keep doing what?”

“Calling me Captain.” Mizuki looked him straight in the eyes, dark gaze searing into Kimishita’s soul. “Couples don’t d–”

“ _Not so loud!_ ”

Mizuki blinked, taken aback, and Kimishita turned bright red with shame. What was he doing, losing his nerves like that? Hissing at Mizuki like some idiot... on their date, to boot...

“Sorry,” he muttered in the vague direction of the ground. “I didn’t mean...”

“Oh. Right. You don’t like people knowing.” Mizuki scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. I’ll be more quiet next time.”

Another silence. Kimishita raked a hand through his snow-damp hair, his face burning with shame. He had made Mizuki apologize... Mizuki, who he owed so much that he should never feel like he should apologize for anything... What in the world was wrong with him? Why was this so hard? Why did he just keep walking into all these traps? Why could everyone else pull this off and he couldn’t?

He wished Kiichi was here.

The thought flashed through him before he could stop it. He wished he didn’t have to be alone with Mizuki, a helpless disaster stumbling from one mistake into the next. If Kiichi was here, he thought, he would find ways to keep the conversation alive. Kiichi would dissolve the tension and make things less awkward. Even if it was by doing stupid things and embarrassing himself and everyone involved, he would find a way to make this whole situation more bearable.

Wait. No. What was he thinking? This was a  _date_ , for crying out loud! He couldn’t stick around here wishing to have his friend with him!

“Kimishita.”

He gave a jolt, blushing madly as he looked up to face Mizuki again, convinced that his treacherous thoughts were written all over his face. “What?”

Mizuki simply pointed to the popcorn. “Sweet or salty?”

Nothing if it requires you paying for me, you idiot, he thought. But arguing was such a pain, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was to make things between them even more awkward. So he just sighed and made a vague gesture. “Sweet.”

_Kiichi wouldn’t need to ask,_  said a voice in his head. He shut it down.

Mizuki gave a thumbs-up and bought an impressive bucket of warm, golden, delicious-smelling popcorn, drooling slightly as he held it in both hands. Kimishita cracked a tiny smile. Maybe he’d been worrying a little too much. Dating or no, Mizuki was still Mizuki after all, and Mizuki would always be the same simple-minded dork.

“Let’s go,” he said, glancing down at their tickets and then at the various signs and doors leading in every direction. “This way.”

They took their seats, as soft and comfy as Kimishita remembered and painfully close. There was only a small armrest separating them, and Kimishita’s arm brushed against Mizuki’s when he so much as moved an arm. It was warm, much warmer than his body felt, and he had to resist every inch of his instincts to keep himself from snuggling up against that inviting, comfortable warmth.

Awkward.

If Mizuki had noticed Kimishita’s growing uneasiness, he didn’t show it at all. He was busy trying to place the bucket of popcorn on the armrest between them, failing over and over and almost knocking it all over before Kimishita finally clicked his tongue and told him to just keep it on his knees, since he would be the one to eat most of it anyway. Mizuki looked not at all displeased at the suggestion and started munching away before the trailers even started.

The lights dimmed and went out. The screen flashed on. Kimishita glanced around and saw that the movie theater was almost empty. The only people nearby were a couple sitting a few rows away, cuddling in their seats and feeding each other with popcorn.

He looked away. So embarrassing.

_And lucky._

The movie started, and Kimishita absent-mindedly reached for a handful of popcorn. He still wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat anything. It was more that he wasn’t sure what else to do with his hands.

Something brushed against his fingers, something firmer and smoother than popcorn. Something warm. So warm that he wanted to grab hold of it and cling to it until his own hands were warm too.

His face flushed. With a jolt he pulled back his hand. No, no, no, no, no! He couldn’t do this! Not without permission... no, not even then.

Wiping his hand on his pants, he stared adamantly at the screen without taking in a single thing. He had no idea what was going on. He had no idea who these people were. All he remembered was that it had something to do with soccer, vaguely.

The movie went on. His head grew heavy. Next to him Mizuki placed down the empty bucket of popcorn and slumped back in his seat, leaning on their shared armrest, temptingly, invitingly close.

If Kimishita moved... just a little, a few inches...

It should be okay. They were dating. And he was sure Mizuki wouldn’t mind.

So close. Kimishita could feel the heat radiating from Mizuki’s skin, the tickle of his breath. Whenever the captain’s chest rose with an intake of breath he was so close the folds of his shirt brushed against Kimishita’s jaw.

Just a few inches...

But he couldn’t do it. It was impossible. Mizuki was so close to him, so close, and yet he couldn’t reach him.

He was already imposing on Mizuki as things were. He couldn’t accept any more from him. And he especially couldn’t go around demanding even more. He was already overstepping his boundaries, asking for things that were never his to ask for, selfishly abusing Mizuki’s kindness and indulgence. No matter what he tried to do... even if it was just a bit of physical contact, holding hands or resting his head against his shoulder... he couldn’t do it. He had no right to do anything that Mizuki didn’t want.

The boy and girl kissed on the big screen, violins playing symphonies as the rain came pouring down around them. A few rows away the couple sat with their lips locked. Kimishita stared blankly into nothing, trying not to see or hear.

He wanted to get out. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run away and not look back until he forgot about everything.

And then the movie was over, too fast and long-awaited at the same time, and relief swept over Kimishita as he finally stood up and stepped away from Mizuki.

Mizuki gave a great yawn, stretched, slipped his coat back on, and picked the empty popcorn bucket back off the ground. He still had crumbs on his face. Kimishita glanced at his shoes, fighting the urge to wipe them off and touch the face he had spent so many days thinking about, the skin that looked so soft despite being out in every weather, the lips–

_That’s enough._

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the way away from their seats and out of the theater.

They walked along in silence. Kimishita was too busy trying not to look at Mizuki to think of anything to say. Mizuki seemed lost in thought. And then they were back outside, stepping into the dark, snowy street, and Kimishita knew it was time to say goodbye.

For a moment they just stood in front of each other, cars rushing past them.

“That was a good movie,” Mizuki said at last.

Kimishita nodded. “Yeah.”

“I had fun.”

“Me too.”

Another silence.

“I think it’s time to go home,” Mizuki said at last.

“Yeah, it’s late.” Kimishita had no idea what he was saying. “Thanks for today, Captain.”

Mizuki smiled. “Good night, Kimishita.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Kimishita stared numbly as Mizuki turned and started walking down the streets, his broad back flickering in and out of the streetlights as he disappeared into the distance. It was strange. But as relieved as he had been to be free from the pressure just a few minutes ago, now all he wanted was to spend a little more time with Mizuki.

\---

Kimishita was so tired and lost in thought that he didn’t notice the figure in front of his door until he almost ran into it.

Blinking, he stumbled back, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the familiar silhouette standing only a foot away, bright eyes meeting with his own, messy red hair covered in snowflakes, nose and cheeks reddened from the cold.

“Hey.”

“Hey, my ass,” Kimishita replied, torn between relief and anger as he stared up at Kiichi’s face. “What are you doing here, idiot?”

It might have been the cold, or it might have been the dim lights playing a trick on him, but Kimishita could have sworn Kiichi’s cheeks turned just a little redder. “I, uh.” He shook a flurry of snowflakes out of his hair. “I thought you might wanna talk to somebody after the date. Or something.”

He did. He really did. And it wasn’t until now that he realized just how much he did.

But not with an idiot who ruined his health to wait for him!

“How long have you been waiting here?” he asked suspiciously.

“Dunno.” Kiichi shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Not long.”

“Long enough to look like you dyed your hair white, huh?”

“I walked here when it was snowing.”

“It stopped snowing before I left the theater.”

“Not over here.”

Kimishita sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, leaning against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets and closing his eyes. “What do you want to hear?”

There was a shuffle of feet on snow, and a second later a weight thudded gently against the wall next to him. “How’d it go?”

Kimishita took a deep breath.

He hated to talk about this. But he needed to get it off his chest even more.

“Bad,” he said. “I have no idea how to talk to him. Keep fucking up as soon as it goes fine for more than thirty seconds.” He clicked his tongue, trying to swallow the stupid, insufferable lump in his throat. “And... I keep getting this stupid urge to touch him whenever he’s close... hold his hand, touch his face, lean on his shoulder. All that sappy bullshit. It’s annoying.” _And painful._  “But I can’t do it. He’d play along if I did, but...” He swallowed again. “Can’t ask him to do anything he doesn’t want himself.”

It really hurt, he realized. It hurt in his chest, physically.

Kiichi didn’t answer immediately. There was a very long silence, and then without warning a pair of arms reached around Kimishita and pulled him against a strong, snow-covered chest.

Kimishita stiffened. “What are you–?!”

“Pretend I’m him.”

He went completely rigid. What had Kiichi just...?

And then it hit him, and he struggled against his grip. “Let me go!” he hissed. “You can’t just–”

“It’s okay,” Kiichi whispered, tightening his grip, a hint of compassion and unbearable sadness trembling in his voice. “I need this too... I...” His hands dug into the fabric of Kimishita’s coat. “I got somebody I like too... but that person doesn’t like me back. So I’m gonna pretend you’re my crush and you can pretend I’m him. Okay?”

Kiichi wasn’t just doing this to make him feel better. He wanted this too... he needed this too. Comfort. Affection.

This wasn’t just an act of pity.

So Kimishita sighed, clicked his tongue, and gave in to the temptation, stepping into the hug and wrapping his arms around Kiichi’s back and burying his face in his chest, feeling his tight grip around his shoulders and the way his breath moved through his body. It was awkward, it was cold and went and snowy, but it was so comforting, so welcome that Kimishita realized just how starved he had been for affection.

_Pretend I’m him._

He closed his eyes and imagined Mizuki standing in front of him, his arms holding him close, his chest rising and falling where he pressed his head against it, listening to his heartbeat. Something hurt in his chest. This was a daydream that would never become reality. But it felt so, so good.

With a quiet sigh he pulled even closer, clinging to Kiichi’s back like a lifeline, pressing up against him and soaking up his presence, the body against his. He was probably making a mistake, he knew. He would probably regret this later. But he could always think about that when the time came.


	18. Quiet

Ooshiba barely noticed the snow beginning to fall around him again as he walked home through the cold, quiet streets.

His mind was dazed. His head was spinning. He could barely believe what just happened, what he had done. Part of him wondered if this was all a dream, if he was about to wake up and discover that the snowflakes floating gently down on his face were nothing but stray feathers from his pillow.

And yet... the cold felt real. And Kimishita’s body, pressed up against his own, holding onto him with his face buried in his jacket, had felt real too.

He ran a hand over the front of his jacket, as if hoping to feel some trace of Kimishita there, even though the fabric had long gone cold again. All that remained was the feeling, the lingering sensation tingling on his skin long after they had let go and parted ways.

Butterflies stirred in his stomach even as his heart weighed heavy in his chest. Holding Kimishita in his arms had felt so good, so good that he almost regretted ever thinking of it. Letting go had been painful, almost like losing a limb and watching it drift away, further and further until it was out of reach, then out of sight, and then finally he was left all alone, an incomplete person, a puzzle missing a piece. Even now every part of him except for his voice was calling for Kimishita, battling the urge to turn around and pull him into his arms and hold him like that again and refuse to let go until his legs gave way and his arms fell asleep.

Even if that embrace would be as much of a lie as the one just now had been.

Ooshiba stared down at his gloved hands, opening and closing his fingers and watching as snowflakes melted on the leather. He still had no idea why he had done what he had done earlier. He wasn’t sure why he had pulled Kimishita into his arms. He had no idea why he had told him to pretend he was Mizuki or why he had told him that half-truth about the person he liked not liking him back either.

No, he knew exactly why.

Kimishita had looked like he needed all that.

Kimishita had looked like he needed a hug, and Ooshiba had hugged him. Kimishita had looked like he missed Mizuki, like he wanted the affection from him that he didn’t have the courage to ask, and Ooshiba had told him to pretend it was Mizuki holding him in his arms. Kimishita had looked like he was tired of being pitied, and Ooshiba had reassured him that he wanted the hug too, for himself, even if it had meant telling half a lie because couldn’t reveal the truth. He had known exactly what Kimishita wanted, what he needed, and he had given him everything without thinking twice.

And if Kimishita looked like he needed something again, he would do just the same. Even if he never got anything back except false hope and heartbreak. Even if Kimishita ended up happy with his worst enemy, he would always be there to do everything in the world to make him happy. He wouldn’t even think about it. At this point it was a reflex, a natural desire, beyond his control. Kimishita needed something, and he wouldn’t stop until he saw him happy again.

But the hug today... that hadn’t just been for Kimishita alone. He hadn’t been lying when he said he needed it too. Badly. And right now he needed it even more.

The hug might have been a lie, based on a lie, excused with a lie. And yet Ooshiba wouldn’t hesitate a second to do it all again.

\---

Kimishita lay awake until late at night, arms wrapped loosely around his pillow, staring quietly into the distance.

His mind was full, buzzing, filled to the brim with thoughts and feelings that he didn’t know what to do with, didn’t know how to untangle and sort into boxes. His emotions were knotted up like abandoned headphone wires, wrapping and tying and lacing into each other until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the next one begun. Memories were chasing each other along the wires, flickering on and off and replacing each other, back and forth and forth and back once more. Mizuki. Kiichi. Kiichi. Mizuki. The date. The hug. Round and round...

He rolled over without letting go of the pillow, pulling it over his face and breathing through the fabric of the pillowcase until he started getting dizzy with oxygen deprivation. His mind was racing faster than ever. So many thoughts... so many feelings...

_Calm down. Think._

Pushing the pillow off his face, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ignoring the protests of his wide-awake mind. He needed to untangle this mess, or he’d never manage to sleep. So the best thing to do would be to try and sort out everything that was going through his head, try to put it into words, to stuff it into boxes and labels until it started making some sort of sense.

The most understandable part had to be today’s date. He missed Mizuki. That much was clear. Every time they parted ways after seeing each other he missed him more and more, wishing they could have stayed together longer, even if he had no idea what he would have done with that time. He barely knew how to deal with Mizuki during the moments they did spend together as things were. Today had been an impressive proof of that, yet another embarrassment he could add to his ever-growing list of embarrassments in front of Mizuki. It was amazing that Mizuki was still putting up with his continued awkwardness, his pride, his inability to start a conversation or communicate in a way that didn’t consist entirely of avoided glances and awkward mutters. Anybody else, he was sure, would already have given up on him.

But then again Mizuki wasn’t in love with him. And maybe his terrible social skills were the reason why. For all his life he had always been surrounded by more people than he wanted, and for all his life he had never felt the need to develop any people skills, gratefully clinging to any moment of solitude he could get. And now that negligence was punching him in the face. He had no idea how to handle his emotions, how to show them and communicate properly without looking like an idiot, and even he could see that it made him terribly unappealing and unlovable.

Would he ever find someone as long as he was like this?

Kimishita draped an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the thought. It didn’t work. The feeling was ages past trying to demand entry; it had long crept into his subconscious, unrecognized and hidden, and now that he was trying to get rid of it it had already captured his entire mind, holding it at gunpoint as it backed him against the wall and forced him to surrender. The fear had always been there, he realized, even if he had tried his best to ignore it for as long as he could.

And maybe, he thought, maybe the feeling was right. After all, with his lack of social skills, his tendency to lash out at people he liked, his cowardice and his tendency to always fall for people who were miles and miles out of his league, what were the odds that he would ever find happiness with someone? Even on the off chance that he fell for someone who wasn’t into girls or taken, where on earth was he supposed to find a person who was stupid enough to actually like him back? He wasn’t good enough for Mizuki... and he hadn’t been good enough for Kiichi either. Who said he’d ever be good enough for anyone who was good enough for him?

_They’re only two people,_  he tried to tell himself.  _I’m not even eighteen yet. It might change someday._

But what if it didn’t? What if he was the problem? And what if he never found a solution?

Why was this so complicated?

No, that wasn’t the right mindset. He shouldn’t act like there was nobody in the world who cared about him. He was still surrounded by people who liked and appreciated him, social skills or no. He had his father, the people in the neighborhood, the team... even Mizuki seemed to like him enough to put up with all this dating nonsense even if he couldn’t return the attraction. It wasn’t the same, but it was reassuring, knowing that he wasn’t alone in spite of all his nonsense, that he wasn’t completely driving people away. And knowing that maybe, someday, someone might think he was more than just likable.

Kiichi’s face flickered across his mind, unbidden, standing in front of his house with his face reddened by the cold and snow in his hair. Kimishita ran a hand through his hair and the image disappeared, only the shadow of a memory lingering on his skin like the distant echo of a gentle touch.

_Kiichi..._

If he didn’t know better, if he was still his stupid, hopeful middle school self, he might be thinking that Kiichi was the someone he was looking for, the someone who saw past his pride and stiffness and awkwardness and temper to wholeheartedly love him anyway. If he hadn’t already gone through this mistake, if he hadn’t long since lost his heart to someone else, today’s visit, the hug might have made him fall in love with Kiichi on the spot. Even now he had no words to describe his gratitude for Kiichi’s loyalty and kindness, the way he constantly went out of his way to give him exactly what he needed without asking and made him feel so...

_...so loved._

Kimishita really was glad he didn’t have feelings for him anymore. And even if he did fall for him again, Kiichi was already crushing on someone else. He had said so himself earlier. Kimishita wouldn’t have stood a chance, again.

Just who was Kiichi crushing on then, he wondered?

He shouldn’t think about it. It wasn’t his business. And yet, as he lay there with his arm draped over his face, wide awake in the dead of night, he couldn’t help wondering... Was there anyone Kiichi had been showing any interest in lately? He couldn’t think of anyone... Was Kiichi holding back? Or was his crush simply someone Kimishita didn’t know, someone from his class or outside of school entirely? Was that also why Kiichi hadn’t told him who it was, because he wouldn’t know anyway? Or was he trying to hide it?

What made someone as conceited and self-confident as Kiichi think he didn’t stand a chance, anyway?

Kimishita lifted his arm off his face. He didn’t get it. This kind of defeatist attitude didn’t suit Kiichi at all. What had happened to make him like this? Was his crush already taken? In love with someone else? Had he been rejected? And if he had... why hadn’t he already brushed it off and got over it? Just how badly did he have to be in love with that person if the mere thought of them still made him hug Kimishita like that?

_That person doesn’t even know what they’re missing._

He didn’t know where that thought came from. But it was the truth, and he wouldn’t bother trying to deny it. Kiichi was an idiot, but he wasn’t a bad choice. Loyal... kind... caring... passionate... someone who felt every emotion with his whole body and mind and loved with every inch of his heart, overwhelming sometimes, but always there to be counted on, without playing games or leaving any room for doubt. Affectionate to the point of almost crushing people, someone who poured his heart and soul into every embrace, giving anyone in his arms the feeling that they were loved and needed and precious, someone he never, ever wanted to let go.

Kimishita’s throat tightened. A lump caught inside it, blocking his airways, making it hard to breathe as the realization hit him in the face with an iron slap. If Kiichi felt that much... just how heartbroken did he have to be? If he was so in love that he could hug a replacement like that, how much did his rejection have to hurt? Every bit as much as Kimishita’s own one-sided feelings had hurt him... no, a thousand times worse.

It had to be unbearable. And Kiichi was still here, trying to bear it anyway.

The lump in his throat grew bigger. His hands balled up into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms. That idiot. That stupid, stupid idiot who had fallen for the wrong person... no, that stupid, insufferable idiot who rejected him and broke his heart! Did they even know what they were doing? Making him suffer like that when he had been ready to give them his everything... how blind did they have to be to not realize how cruelly they were treating him?

Someone like that didn’t deserve Kiichi, honestly. Someone who couldn’t appreciate everything he had to offer didn’t deserve Kiichi’s affections. Kiichi would be better if he forgot them. Moved on, just like he had with that girl back then.

_Look who’s talking._

Should Kimishita of all people really be thinking that? He, who was losing his head over someone who was just as dense, just as oblivious, just as incapable of returning his feelings and giving him happiness? Hypocritical.

He sighed. They were in the same boat, weren’t they? He and Kiichi... at the core they were alike, one and the same, stuck in the same messes that they couldn’t get out of by themselves.

He’d be nicer to Kiichi from now on, he resolved. He would try not to lash out at him as often. If Kiichi looked like he needed it, he would offer to hear him out, just like Kiichi had done for him. And if Kiichi needed another hug like the one earlier, he wouldn’t protest. Not that he really wanted to, honestly. It had felt welcome, much more welcome than he should like, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

It may have been a lie, a pretense from beginning to end, a sad replacement on both sides. And yet Kimishita wouldn’t hesitate a second to do it all again.

\---

Usui wiped the sweat off his face, stopping for a moment to catch his breath as his eyes roamed freely over the gym they had temporarily been relocated to while the soccer pitch was snowed in, missing no inch and no detail.

Next to the goal Haibara was shouting something at Inohara, gesturing wildly and apparently either recounting a particularly shocking misadventure or thinking up a zany scheme. Hayase and Kokubo were doing tricks with the ball, apparently trying to impress a handful of girls passing by and, by the looks of it, failing miserably, which didn’t deter them in the slightest. Kurusu, Nitobe and Shiratori were arguing loudly in the middle of the gym with poor Nakijin caught between them trying to mediate until Satou and Suzuki took pity on him and stepped in. What Tsukamoto had done he had no idea, but he was sporting a fresh bruise on his forehead, bright pink and, going by how hard Kazama was trying not to laugh, definitely nothing serious. It was business as usual.

Almost.

Usui’s eyes passed over Ubukata trying to untangle Mizuki’s foot from the net of the goal (nobody had any idea how he had even managed to get stuck in the first place, but nobody asked such questions when it came to Mizuki) and finally rested on a certain pair of second-years, seemingly the only ones in the club who acted normal today.

Kimishita and Ooshiba had been surprisingly quiet today. No, not just quiet...  _thoughtful_  would probably describe it better. They spoke a lot less than they usually did, so much less that it was noticeable even in Kimishita, who was already anything but talkative. They didn’t interact with anyone unless they had to, trailing off and staring into space whenever they had nothing to do, often gazing thoughtfully, almost fondly at each other when the other wasn’t looking. And the strangest part of it all, even when they would have been at each other’s throats under normal circumstances, today they didn’t show the slightest inclination to pick a single fight.

It was almost as if they had come to a silent agreement, somehow. Even if Usui couldn’t tell what they had agreed on.

Was this good news? He wasn’t sure. On one hand Kimishita did look calmer than he had during the past weeks, even though Usui still wouldn’t go as far as to call him relaxed. His face was still troubled, troubled in a different way than it had been lately, but troubled nonetheless. And yet it was a kind of troubledness that suited him much more than the bundle of raw nerves from the date yesterday, less jumpy and frantic and more down-to-earth and melancholy. From the way he looked now, it seemed like whatever had happened between him and Ooshiba between yesterday and this morning was a step in the right direction.

On the other hand, however, Usui knew them both too well to think they were headed straight for the happy ending now. The looks Ooshiba was throwing Kimishita were still different from the ones Kimishita sent Ooshiba’s way. They were still sadder, more longing, although the pain in them had faded from something bright and burning into a dull, distant ache, the looks of someone who had had his heart broken and made peace with it. If Usui had to put it into words, he’d say he looked almost like he had given up hope of Kimishita ever liking him back.

He wondered what had happened, honestly. Ooshiba wasn’t the type to just go and give up. Had he confessed to Kimishita and been rejected? No, they weren’t being awkward enough for that. The two second-years weren’t avoiding each other or acting embarrassed; it looked more like they had started to see each other in a new light and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Hmm...”

Usui blinked, looking away from the strange duo and turning towards the disheveled-looking Mizuki who had appeared next to him. “Oh, did you free your foot?”

Mizuki stared at him with an intense frown, ignoring the question. “You look serious,” he said instead.

For a moment Usui felt tempted to brush it off, then he changed his mind. If anybody had the chance to know what had happened, it should be Mizuki. So he pointed to Kimishita and Ooshiba as they approached the goal while passing a ball back and forth between them, watching him closely as he followed his gaze.

“These two have been acting different today,” he remarked casually. “You don’t know what happened between them, do you?”

Mizuki frowned, then he shook his head. “No.”

“That’s too bad.” Usui looked back at the dynamic duo with a smile. “Well, it can’t be helped. Then all we can do is wait and see how it plays out.”


	19. Anchor

“Kimishita?”

Snapping out of his daze, Kimishita cut off his train of thoughts and turned around to face the origin of the voice behind him, failing to recognize the speaker for a moment. Then his brain caught up with the situation, and his face instantly flushed a bright shade of pink.

Mizuki.

“Y-Yes?” he stuttered out, hurriedly chasing after his composure that had been threatening to run away and pulling it back where it belonged. “You want something, Captain?” he asked more calmly. Hopefully Mizuki was too dense to recognize the flush on his face for the embarrassment that it was.

Mizuki simply gave his head a slight tilt, as if confused, but he didn’t comment on Kimishita’s state. Instead he pointed to their teammates where they stood lined up on opposing sides of the gym, neatly sorted into two halves except for a stray handful that had yet to end up on a side. “Practice game,” he said. “We can pick our own teams today. Want to join mine?”

Kimishita’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. His pride as a player woke up from its sleep and jumped to its feet, leaping excitedly at the obvious display of faith in his skill.

Unless...?

He looked away, inadvertently finding himself looking towards Kiichi on the other side of the gym as if his image was some kind of reassurance. “You don’t have to pick me!” he grumbled. “Just because...”

He trailed off. How should he put this into words?

Mizuki, thankfully, seemed unfazed. “I want you to join though,” he said bluntly. “Your passes are the best.”

Kimishita’s heart skipped another beat. A wave of pride and joy washed over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet as his face started to glow and the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a confident smirk. He was good enough. He was good enough. He was good enough for Mizuki, at least as a player.

“Got it,” he said, crossing his arms and following Mizuki to their end of the gym. “Let’s win, Captain!”

Mizuki smiled back. “Sure.” He gave a thumbs-up. “Make the passes go  _ka-voom_  today.”

“For the last time, explain it in a way I can understand!”

“Oh yeah, sorry.  _Ka-voom_ , it’s a bit like  _nyoom_  but leaning towards  _pow-pow-pow_ , but with more  _boom_  than  _blam_  and–”

“Just try using words to explain! Words!”

Mizuki looked at a loss for a moment, as if seriously pondering how to try and translate his instructions into a language a functional human being could understand. Then he brushed it off, walking back ahead to take his position. “It’s okay,” he said. “Your passes are always super good anyway.”

“Don’t just say that because you can’t give proper instructions!” Kimishita shouted after him, even as an army of butterflies took flight inside his stomach. So much praise. So much acknowledgement. He tried not to let it get to his head, but it was impossible. Each one of Mizuki’s words had lifted him higher and higher on cloud nine.

This was how they should work together, he thought. This was what he wanted. A powerful team, a Mizuki who acknowledged his skills and had faith in them, a Mizuki who trusted him even if their communication was wonky sometimes. This was the way they were meant to be, a dynamic duo, pushing each other further and further on the pitch without having to worry about boundaries or conventions or messy feelings for the moment. He wished he could take this feeling and put it in a jar, take it with them wherever they went, and whenever things threatened to become awkward he would open it and take it out so that they could take flight and soar towards the horizon together once more.

Nakazawa blew the whistle to start the match, and Kimishita sped out as soon as the ball started moving, mentally zooming out to watch the players from above like moving figures on a chessboard. Mizuki got hold of the ball, dribbling ahead, Tsukamoto not far behind but at a safe distance, ready to burst out to one side and catch the rebound if needed. From the other side Kazama and Kiichi were closing in, ready to snatch the ball and dribble in the opposite direction. No, Kazama seemed to be marking Tsukamoto... That meant that his first priority was Kiichi.

Kiichi wasn’t pulling any punches today. His eyes were on fire, laser-focused on Mizuki’s moving form like a duelist searching for the slightest opening in his opponent’s fencing, each one of his movements a barely-controlled explosion. Wherever Mizuki steered he steered, following the movements of his eyes to catch feints, stop any tricks up his sleeve before he could begin to play them. His silhouette seemed colossal, larger than life, his moves lightning-fast and violent as every part of him seemed to glow with a dark, fiery aura.

_He was doing amazing._

Kimishita didn’t know where the thought came from. It was ill-timed, completely out of place. But the Kiichi who was up against Mizuki right now was so intense, so fierce and powerful that Kimishita couldn’t help the chill of furious pride running down his spine. He had grown again. He had grown so much. And the way he was playing now, explosive yet sharp and perceptive, was precisely the kind of playing style he had always envisioned for Kiichi.

He was still intense. But this intensity didn’t come from raw power alone. It came from using his head, thinking how Mizuki thought, keeping a cool head and calmly going through all the possible moves and choosing one at lightning speed. It was like he had finally moved his emotions out of the way, focusing completely on the game without any greed or jealousy to stop him.

It was like he wasn’t playing to one-up Mizuki or show off anymore... he was simply trying to play as best as he could.

So Kimishita had to outplay him. Thinking about his improvement was something that could be saved for later.

He focused back on Mizuki, reading his movements, watching every detail in the hopes of reading his thoughts before Kiichi could, catching a cue that would let them outsmart their marks... behind them Tsukamoto was catching up, but Kazama was closing in too... Kiichi seemed just about ready to make his move, and–

They were surrounded from all sides except one. Too easy. Much too easy.

Kimishita smirked, speeding out at the exact second Mizuki sent the ball to him with a back pass, positioning himself perfectly between his teammates, speed-calculating where to send it next. So easy... Had they really thought they could leave Mizuki’s back uncovered? They should have known–

“Gotcha.”

Kimishita’s head whipped around. A flash of blond hair, flying into his vision... a silhouette, flying past him, darting into his way, blocking him off...

Damn it.

Kazama hadn’t been marking Tsukamoto after all. He had been lurking in wait... and Kimishita had fallen right into his trap.

No, not yet. Kazama might have blocked his way for now, but there was still Tsukamoto behind him and he could always pass back... no, Satou was in the way– when had he appeared there? There was no way to get past him, Tsukamoto was struggling and failing... but that still left Mizuki, he should be right there, he could still–

A shadow shot past him, almost too fast to follow. And suddenly Kiichi was level with him, blocking the way towards Mizuki, lunging for the ball. Kimishita dodged and nearly collided with Kazama. He dribbled backwards, sideways, forwards, trying to shake them off. Arms knocked into arms. Bodies collided together. Feet stumbled over feet, and suddenly the ground was moving closer, closer,  _closer_ –

The sound of a whistle cut through the air. Kimishita opened his eyes. His face lay flat against the gym floor, his forehead sore and hurting where it had collided with the ground. His knees and elbows felt raw and scraped, as if they were about to start bleeding at any given moment. Or maybe they already had, and he was bleeding over the gym floor. Next to him Kiichi and Kazama were scrambling to their feet, looking startled but unharmed, the ball rolling away from them all, unattended for the moment.

“...Kimishita?”

A hand reached out towards him, open and concerned. Kimishita followed it along the arm with his gaze until finally looking into a pair of surprised, worried brown eyes that he knew all too well.

“Are you okay?” Mizuki asked, leaning down with a frown on his face. “Did you hurt something?”

An embarrassed flush shot over Kimishita’s face. What on earth had happened? What had he done? He had fallen into his opponents’ trap, failed to find a way out, and then crashed and caused an accident... and after Mizuki had just expressed his trust in him as a player, too!

“I’m fine!” he snapped, sounding harsher than he meant to, even if he didn’t truly care. Turning his head away, he scrambled back to his feet while ignoring Mizuki’s outstretched hand even as his entire body begged and yearned to take it, flinching as his scraped elbows and knees protested against the burden. He ignored the pain. Not right now. He had to get back in the game and make up for the blunder just now, prove that he was still worthy of Mizuki’s trust, that this had only been a blunder, unforgivable but human, inevitable–

Mizuki’s frown deepened, his eyes roaming over Kimishita’s body with ever-increasing concern. “You’re hurt,” he said.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Kimishita looked down at himself and winced. His knees were scraped worse than he thought, red and dirtied, a trickle of blood running along his right leg towards his sock and shinguard. His elbows looked no better. There was blood on the floor too, smeared over the ground where he had crashed down.

“Oh crap,” Kazama said with a sheepish grin, awkwardly scratching his cheek. “Sorry... guess that one was my bad, Kimishita-kun.”

Kimishita shot him a murderous glare. “Watch where you’re going next time, you fucking imbecile!”

“Okaaaay.”

“Say it properly!”

“Okay, boss.”

Kimishita ignored him. His eyes shifted towards Kiichi instead, half expecting him to say something too, maybe demand another apology from Kazama or complain about the crash or even – a thought that would have seemed ridiculous mere weeks ago – worry about Kimishita’s injuries. But he was silent as their eyes met, his expression unreadable, simply looking back at Kimishita in that unexplainable Kiichi way of his before turning away and muttering, “Band-aid.”

“What?”

“Get one.” Kiichi walked back to his original position, still not looking back. “Don’t wanna slip on your blood.”

Kimishita didn’t know why, but he felt his face heat up. “No shit!” he shouted after him. “You think I want to go around bleeding all over the place?”

Kiichi didn’t react, and Kimishita stopped short, the sudden urge to go after him and apologize shooting through his mind. Hadn’t he promised himself not to yell at Kiichi anymore just last night?

Well, Kiichi didn’t know that, but still–

A hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, warm and steady, snapping him out of his thoughts. Before Kimishita knew what was going on he was being guided through the gym, away from the field and towards the benches on the side, where Ubukata sat waiting while rummaging through a first-aid kit.

He glanced up– and stared straight into Mizuki’s face.

“W– Wha–?!” Kimishita’s face caught fire, the simultaneous urges to melt against his hand and get away from it warring inside his body. “What are you doing?” he whisper-shouted as he stumbled towards Ubukata, Mizuki’s hand still resting on his back. “I know the way myself! Don’t push me!”

“Sorry.” Mizuki let go of his back, and of course Kimishita missed his touch in an instant. “You just weren’t going to get a band-aid yourself.”

“I was about to! It’s not like–”

Mizuki gave him a thumbs-up. People who didn’t know him well might have thought his expression was stoic as usual, but Kimishita wasn’t fooled. He could see the relief in the captain’s eyes, written all over his face, plain as day. Something twisted inside his gut, cold and ashamed. He wished Mizuki’s hand was still on his back, warming him and guiding him towards the bench. But all he had was an echo, a tingling that was slowly starting to subside, leaving him feeling stupidly lost in this all-too-familiar gym.

_Actually, you can keep on pushing me if you want to._  One simple sentence, and Mizuki would place his hand on his back again, Kimishita knew. All he had to do was say one single stupid sentence.

But it would be another favor he asked of Mizuki, and that really wasn’t worth it.

Mizuki led him to the bench and motioned for him to sit down, taking a seat next to him for no reason at all, so close that Kimishita could feel the heat from his skin again, too close yet too far. He stared straight ahead, trying to ignore him, ignore the mess of feelings stirring inside his whole body. His eyes searched through the gym for something to hold onto.  _Find Kiichi... find Kiichi..._

Ubukata sighed, remarked something about careless soccer idiots that wasn’t directed at Kimishita in particular, and sat down to clean out his wounds, disinfect them, and cover them up with ridiculously cutesy band-aids. Kimishita ignored the familiar burning sensation on his knees. He had grown used to it by now, even if he still found the whole procedure a little troublesome.

“Done,” Ubukata remarked, standing up and glancing down at her work. “Let me see your elbows too.”

Kimishita wanted to reply that they weren’t hurt that badly, but he knew better than to argue with the manager. If she thought it was necessary, it probably was. If anyone on this team knew what they were doing, it had to be her.

Sighing quietly, he held out his right arm, then his left as Ubukata took care of his injuries, working quickly and efficiently until stepping back, looking him up and down and then nodding. “Okay, you can get back.”

Kimishita muttered a thanks and got up, ready to return to the game that was still on hold when Mizuki stepped into his way, grabbing his shoulders and leaning into his face, squinting at his forehead, too close,  _much too close–_

He jolted back, nearly tripping over the bench. “What the–?!”

“Your forehead,” Mizuki replied, still squinting at him. “It’s red too. Does it hurt?”

Kimishita’s hand inadvertently moved up to his face, feeling his forehead. It didn’t hurt to the touch, and it wasn’t swollen either. In fact, he had completely forgotten about it earlier, but now that Mizuki had reminded him it was throbbing under his fingers, just like his face, his entire body. “It’s all right,” he grumbled.

“Hmm...” Mizuki’s frown intensified, and a second later a hand came to rest against his forehead, feeling his bruise with warm, careful fingers. “Really?”

Kimishita’s body went cold and hot. Every sense in his body was hyper-focused on the hand against his forehead, painfully aware of the tiniest details, each one of his muscles so rigid they seemed about to snap. His mind was completely blank, blank except for the growing urge to grab that hand touching his face and, and–

Why did this still keep happening? Why did he never, ever learn?

_Deep breaths,_  he told himself.  _Calm down. Find Kiichi... focus on Kiichi..._

Gritting his teeth, he tore his eyes away from Mizuki’s face, searching the gym behind him, flitting, scanning until his gaze settled on the familiar mop of red hair. There was Kiichi, still standing in his position, arms crossed, looking impatient to continue the match, seemingly turned away from them but watching from the corner of his eye. Something in Kimishita’s body relaxed. Kiichi was here. He knew what was going on. If he needed comforting or reassurance, Kiichi would know what to do.

“It’s only a bruise,” he said in a calmer voice, moving away from Mizuki and stepping around him even as his body protested. “It’s all right! Let’s continue the stupid game, we don’t have much time left!”

Mizuki gave him a confused look but nodded and followed him. They returned to their positions, Nakazawa resumed the game, and Kimishita instantly threw all confusing thoughts and feelings out of his head. All that mattered for now was soccer, making up for his mistake earlier and helping score a few goals, or maybe even scoring them himself.

After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

\---

“So,” Kimishita asked with an annoyed twitch in his face, “what did you kidnap me here for, idiot?”

Kiichi looked around the storage room he had dragged the two of them into after leaving the locker room, taking in the piles of dusty old equipment as if searching for something, his cheeks vaguely pink. For a moment he looked like he was listening to make sure no one was listening nearby, then he pointed awkwardly to Kimishita’s knees that still had Ubukata’s flower-patterned band-aids stuck to them. “Uh... you okay?”

Kimishita looked at the band-aids and then back at Kiichi, torn between embarrassment and annoyance. “For the last time, I’m fine!” he snapped, ready to shoot out another insult when he remembered his promise again and trailed off. “If you want to worry about someone, worry about Tsukamoto. Or the guy who had to leave a match with blood in his eyes and a twisted ankle once, whoever that was.”

Kiichi pouted, but he seemed to loosen up a little. “That was one time.”

“One more time than me.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m a hero. Heroes get hurt when they fight bad guys.”

Kimishita said nothing. Hearing Kiichi calling himself a hero again after all this time felt strange, oddly displaced. It was like a relic of the old Kiichi spoken from the mouth of the new one, a jarring, off-putting contrast... and yet Kimishita had never felt more inclined to believe his words.

_A hero, huh..._

He brushed off the thought, ignoring the strange stirring sensation in his chest. Instead he stared down at his feet, studying the pattern of his shoes. They were starting to look worn out, he realized. He would have to mend them again soon.

The silence dragged on.

Finally Kimishita tore his eyes from his shoes, glancing up at Kiichi, who was still gazing quietly into the distance. “Is that all?” he asked. “Hurry up, we’ll be late for class.”

Kiichi blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. His cheeks turned a shade pinker than before as he turned, quickly looking at Kimishita’s face, then glancing back down.

“Captain,” he mumbled finally. “Are you okay after...  _him?_ ”

_Oh._

Something shot through Kimishita, an emotion he couldn’t describe. He wasn’t surprised, he could tell that much. No, it felt more... like his expectations had been fulfilled, expectations that he hadn’t realized he had. As if he had subconsciously trusted Kiichi to realize how he was feeling and come to him, knowing exactly what he needed and what to do.

For a split second a tiny part of him considered lying, brushing it off and telling Kiichi they should hurry to class. But he knew better by now. Talking to Kiichi had always made him feel better than keeping secrets, and if he was reading the signs right, Kiichi felt much better when he confided in him too.

“It’s still troublesome,” he admitted, staring at his shoes once more. “Ever since yesterday it feels like... like he’s been touching me even more than before. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think...” He clicked his tongue, leaving the sentence unfinished. “It’s annoying. Like starving in the desert, but every time you’ve managed to forget about it someone comes by and lets you have the last bite of their ice cream. And you suck it up and then regret it because it makes you remember how much more you really need–”

He stopped in his tracks. What was he talking about? Standing here sounding like some sort of lovestruck idiot talking in soap opera metaphors... Ridiculous. Venting was one thing, but it was a whole different story to sound like an edgy middle schooler poet wannabe.

“Forget it,” he grumbled. “It’s a stupid feeling with a stupid explana–”

“Shut up!”

His eyes snapped open. Blinking in surprise, he stared up at Kiichi, at the look of anguished compassion on his face, the bright eyes staring intensely into his own.

“You’re always saying that shit!” Kiichi burst out, grabbing his shoulders, gripping them so tightly they dug into the muscle. “Stop acting like your feelings are stupid, stupid! They’re your feelings! You feel them! If you think about how Captain feels then care about how you feel too, you selfless asshole!”

Kimishita blinked numbly. Kiichi’s words reverberated through his head, the echoes growing quieter and quieter as the meaning of everything he said slowly made its way into his head.

And suddenly it was hard to breathe.

Emotions swept over him, crashing down like a tidal wave, breaking through his defenses, knocking the breath out of his lungs, almost pushing him to his knees. Fears. Loneliness. Heartbreak. Frustration.

Unfathomable gratitude.

Without knowing what he was doing, he reached out, steadying himself against Kiichi’s arms, clinging to the sleeves of his shirt like they were the only thing that kept him from drowning. Kiichi understood. Kiichi didn’t mind. Kiichi was here telling him his stupid, useless feelings mattered, that they were neither stupid nor useless, that he needed to stop playing them down all the time... he was telling him he could open up completely, let down the last of his guard, tell him about all the suffocating feelings that were making him weak without ever looking weak in Kiichi’s eyes.

_My feelings._

It was scary. Mind-numbing. Terrifying. He had never learned how to express any emotion but anger. He had no idea how to go about it. He had no idea how to explain what he felt without sounding like an idiot and dying of shame. If he had a choice he’d rather spend the rest of his life alone on a forsaken island than express soft emotions. And yet...

_My feelings._

_A part of me. My feelings._

Maybe... just maybe he could at least accept their existence. Accept them for what they were instead of seeing them as disturbances in his pride and reputation. Stop invalidating them all the time and try to find a solution to the problem instead.

If he could pull it off, that didn’t sound so bad.

“My feelings, huh.”

His voice was still shaky as he let go of Kiichi, freeing himself from his grip and stepping backwards against the wall. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll try. But don’t expect me to change from one day to the next.”

Kiichi still didn’t look happy, but there was a glint of relief in his face. “Okay.” He swallowed and opened his arms tentatively, hesitant eyes meeting with Kimishita’s gaze. “Pretend I’m him?” he added softly.

Kimishita gave a defeated sigh, closed his eyes and imagined Mizuki, standing there in front of him with his arms opened for a hug. Swallowing the tightening lump in his throat, Kimishita moved into the embrace, tightly wrapping his arms around Kiichi’s back, pressing up against him, burying his nose in his shirt and inhaling the scent, expensive cologne mingling with the slightest hint of soft laundry soap, imagining Mizuki in these clothes, with this fresh yet gentle and reassuring smell. He listened as Kiichi’s heartbeat picked up and pictured Mizuki’s doing the same as he wrapped his arms around his back, holding him so close he almost couldn’t breathe.

_Captain..._

He adjusted his hold, tightened his grip, trying to pull the imaginary Mizuki even closer. The arms around his back did the same, almost trembling in their hold as warm breath tickled his face and a nose snuggled gently into his hair.

Kiichi made a soft noise, and Kimishita opened his eyes without letting go. Something hurt in his chest.  _That’s right,_  he realized.  _You’re pretending I’m someone else too._

He seemed so happy in his illusion. Every part of him was radiating happiness, a happiness that made Kimishita’s heart break in his chest. If it was that person standing here in his arms... he would be so happy, so indescribably happy, and yet he could only daydream about it while holding someone else.

Kimishita bit back a laugh. Life wasn’t fair.

Smiling to himself, he patted Kiichi’s back, running his hands along his spine and shoulder blades and swallowing a giant lump in his throat as Kiichi melted into the touch, smiling and snuggling closer and looking like a kitten about to start purring. Kimishita reached up, running his hands through his hair, smiling at how soft it was, how fluffy...

_You’re wasted on that person, Kiichi._

He barely stopped himself from saying it out loud. His heart skipped a beat. His hands fell out of Kiichi’s hair, hanging loosely between his neck and shoulders.

Was it just him... or had he got a little carried away?

The ringing of the bell sounded through the school building, snapping them both out of their thoughts. Kiichi opened his eyes, groaned and let go with unwilling hesitation, looking like he had just woken up from a very long dream.

“It’s this late already,” Kimishita said, shivering in the cold that crept over his body after Kiichi’s warm embrace. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

Kiichi pouted. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbled, but when Kimishita looked up at him again he stuck his hands into his pockets and followed him out of the room.

They hurried through the hallways without another word. But just as they were about to turn and walk into their separate classrooms Kimishita stopped at the door, looking over his shoulder to face Kiichi again.

“Oh, and Kiichi,” he said, unable to stop the look of gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Once again the word  _hero_  had made its way into his mind without asking.


	20. Umbrella

Around noon it started snowing again. During the afternoon classes the snow grew thicker. By the time practice was supposed to start the entire world was wrapped in a flurry of white, whirling down, whistling around corners, falling so thickly and rapidly that it was impossible to see one side of the street when looking from the other.

“I wonder if we’ll even get to practice today,” Suzuki remarked as they left the classroom, heading for their lockers to get their equipment. “We still can’t use the pitch, and there’s no guarantee we’ll be getting the gym today. The basketball and volleyball clubs don’t want to give up their places, and baseball and the girls’ soccer club have matches coming up too.”

Kimishita breathed into his hands, which felt icy cold even though they were still inside the school building. “You know a lot, huh.”

“I’ve been talking to people from the clubs. Everyone’s worried, this snow couldn’t come at a worse–” Suzuki stopped mid-sentence as two other figures shifted into focus, figures that Kimishita recognized at first glance. Satou and Kiichi came walking out of their own classroom, bags slung casually over their shoulders, evidently immersed in a heated discussion.

“Nope,” Kiichi was saying as they steered towards Kimishita and Suzuki. “They gotta give us the gym again. We’re the stars of the school. We gotta practice for nationals!”

Satou gave a slightly exasperated sigh, as if he had just heard this very argument for the fifth time in a row. “I told you,” he said, “the indoor sports teams only just have qualifiers for nationals after the New Year’s break, it’s an important time for them too! And we already got the gym this morning, didn’t we?”

“So what.” Kiichi pouted and crossed his arms. “We need it again.”

“And so does everybody else in this school, okay? Whiskers said he wants to talk to everybody and compromise, but we don’t know– oh, hey,” he interrupted himself as he spotted Suzuki and Kimishita, visibly glad for an excuse to get away from the discussion, “do you guys know where we have to go now?”

Kimishita and Suzuki exchanged a glance before shrugging. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” Satou stuck his hands into his pockets and moved into the group to walk beside Suzuki. “I just hope they’ll figure it out soon. If practice gets canceled, I’d rather they tell us before we get snowed in and have to spend the night here.”

Suzuki nodded and replied something Kimishita didn’t quite catch, and a moment later the two were pulling ahead, leaving Kimishita alone with Kiichi.

There was a very long silence.

“What are these two in such a hurry for?” Kimishita muttered at last, more to break the silence than anything else.

Kiichi shrugged and said nothing. He was still pouting at Satou’s retreating back.

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “What?”

“What, ‘what’?”

“What are you sulking for, huh?” Well, at least he was talking and not determined to keep pouting for the rest of the day, Kimishita thought. “Mad that your buddy ditched your sulking ass?”

Kiichi’s sulk intensified, then a glint shot into his eyes and he glanced down at Kimishita with an almost amused pout. “Your buddy ditched your ass too.”

“Look how much I care.”

“Antisocial nerd.”

“Ah? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The pout temporarily melted off Kiichi’s face. Kimishita raised an eyebrow and smirked. Kiichi stuck out his tongue, and Kimishita flipped him off.

“So?” he asked, his voice a lot lighter than before. “What were you sulking about? Don’t tell me...” He turned to fully face Kiichi, the amusement glintingly obvious in his eyes. “The Incredible Sulk finally realized that practice is important and doesn’t want it to get canceled?”

He fully expected Kiichi to give a sarcastic answer back or maybe respond with a playful insult, but Kiichi didn’t smile. The lighthearted twinkle disappeared from his eyes as he turned his head away, staring into the distance where Satou and Suzuki had disappeared. “Shut up.”

Kimishita blinked up at him, at the serious, stubborn profile of his face as he stared ahead, eyebrows knitted together, lips pressed together into a pout, his bright eyes clouded over like the snowy sky outside. He didn’t look angry at Kimishita. He looked more... insulted, mildly upset perhaps, as if Kimishita had accidentally said something very insensitive or touched upon a sore spot that he was unwilling to disclose by giving any kind of answer.

“You know,” Kimishita said quietly, looking away from his face, glancing down at the pattern of the floor, “I’d hate it if practice got canceled too.”

Kiichi glanced down at him, then back ahead. “Yup,” he muttered, his pout fading slightly to leave only a melancholy look. “We gotta practice and win nationals. And then do the same next year with me as captain.”

Kimishita gave an audible snort. “Like anyone will listen to you as captain.”

“You’re gonna listen,” Kiichi replied matter-of-factly. “And then everybody listens to you.”

“Or we could skip the complications and just make me captain.”

“Like you want the job.”

“Of course I don’t, but I’d rather do it myself than leave it to your stupid ass!”

Kiichi crossed his arms. “And what if Hideki or Eita become captain?”

Kimishita paused. He had fully intended to say that they’d make better captains than Kiichi any day, and rationally he understood that it would be the truth. Satou and Suzuki had more sanity and responsibility in their tiniest hairs than Kiichi had in his entire body, to say nothing of intelligence. And yet, as he looked up at Kiichi again, the Kiichi he knew so well, the Kiichi who had changed and grown so much in the past few weeks that he had trouble recognizing him sometimes, he couldn’t help feeling like seeing anyone else take over the captain’s role would seem unfitting, disappointing... almost wrong.

What was that feeling? Favoritism? Ridiculous. Where was his pride in making unbiased decisions for the greater good of the team?

Brushing off the odd feeling and shoving it into the cluttered box at the back of his mind where he stored all feelings he couldn’t or didn’t want to explain, Kimishita put on a mildly annoyed aura and shrugged. “What are we discussing that for, anyway?” he remarked. “It’s not like we know what will happen.”

“Yeah,” Kiichi said, “but it’s just a couple months till we know.”

Months. Kimishita swallowed. It was already December. Just three more months, and the third-years would graduate. Mizuki would graduate. And Kimishita likely wouldn’t see him again.

What should he do then? He should probably break things off when it was time to part ways, he thought. Mizuki was going to go pro. He would have more important things on his mind, and Kimishita couldn’t waste his time with a stupid pretend relationship any longer. Mizuki would be a professional soccer player, a celebrity, and Kimishita would just be another high schooler. What right would he still have to call Mizuki his significant other, even if there wasn’t the risk of the relationship putting the captain’s career in jeopardy if the public ever got wind of it? He would have to end things... and then never see him again.

It was still such a long time away. Months, he tried to tell himself. Months were a long time where a lot could happen. Maybe when the time came in spring he wouldn’t be hurt by the separation. But right now that time seemed frighteningly, dreadfully short, so short that he wished he could stop time and cling to the little he had right now forever.

“Guys!” Satou’s voice rang from the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Practice is canceled, pass it on!”

Kimishita blinked, realized what Satou had just said, and groaned quietly as he glared at the snowstorm outside. “Fucking winter,” he grumbled. “Who told you?”

“Usui-senpai wrote it into the group chat just now,” Suzuki answered. “Apparently Whiskers told him.”

Kimishita and Kiichi exchanged a glance, then they both pulled out their phones to check. It was true; there was the notification, the message from Usui announcing that Nakazawa hadn’t managed to secure them a place for this afternoon and practice was canceled. They could go home.

“Well, let’s get out of here,” Satou said with a sigh, turning back towards the door. “I just hope you all have umbrellas with you, it’s nasty outside.”

Kiichi looked caught off guard, blinked, paled, and tapped away on his phone before disappearing to the side to make a call. Kimishita shrugged and walked on to his locker, opening it and putting on his street shoes before pulling out the old, battered umbrella he had wisely brought with him this morning. It was heavy and uncomfortable to carry, but it was still infinitely better than getting snowed in and catching pneumonia before nationals.

“What do you mean, hours?”

He looked up, standing on his tiptoes to look at Kiichi, who was looking horror-struck as he glared daggers at his phone. “You can’t come in hours, you gotta come here now! What am I gonna do in here for a couple hours?”

There was a pause, and Kiichi pouted intensely at the phone, listening for one beautifully quiet moment. Then his expression slipped, and he balled up his fists and stomped his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “No! No! No!” he shouted into the speaker. “You gotta come now! You gotta find a way! Fuck traffic! Hey!”

So loud.

Groaning inwardly, Kimishita closed his locker and returned to his idiot teammate. “What?” he asked. “Mommy and Daddy not here to pick up the princeling?”

Kiichi went pink, hung up, and stuffed his phone into his pocket. “Shut up.”

He looked spectacularly stupid, Kimishita thought, even by his standards. Exactly the kind of stupid that always convinced him to help, no matter how troublesome or annoying or unnecessary it was.

“What happened?” he asked in a calmer voice.

Kiichi crossed his arms and pouted. “My driver can’t get here,” he grumbled. “He says he’s stuck in traffic ‘cause of the snow and I gotta wait here for a couple hours.”

Of course it was something stupid like that. “Ever thought of walking home like a normal person?”

“Fuck off.”

“Why? Living like a peasant would do you some good.”

Kiichi made a number of vague gestures and gave another noncommittal grumble, his pout turning embarrassed as he muttered, “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Correction: He didn’t  _look_  spectacularly stupid. He  _was_  spectacularly stupid.

“You didn’t bring an umbrella,” Kimishita repeated slowly. “In this weather.”

“I got a car, I thought I wouldn’t need one!” Kiichi said defensively.

“And you never once thought that  _maybe_  it would keep snowing and the fucking car would end up stuck in traffic?”

“Uh. Nope.”

Kimishita face-palmed.

Honestly, it was moments like this that he caught himself wondering why in the world he even bothered with this guy, his endless stupidity and brattiness and complete and utter inability to think one step ahead for once. But then he remembered... it was exactly because of that. Because he could never leave someone alone when they needed help, no matter how much of a pain it was... because he liked to be relied on, because he liked to have someone who needed his help.

Kiichi had been stupid, leaving his umbrella at home and relying entirely on his driver, and it would be perfectly well-deserved to ditch him here to wait alone and go home. But it wasn’t like he could actually do that. He looked so stuidly helpless standing there, crossing his arms and pouting and clearly at least half-considering walking home without an umbrella in this weather. There was no way he could let him do that... especially since Kiichi wouldn’t leave him alone in such a situation either.

“I have an umbrella,” he said. “You can walk with me if you want.”

Kiichi blinked, his pout disappearing in an instant. He stared at Kimishita, then at the umbrella in his hand, then back at Kimishita.

“Uh... what?”

Kimishita stared back and felt his face heat up. Why did this whole scene feel so weirdly embarrassing?

“You heard me,” he snapped, averting his gaze and clicking his tongue. “We can both fit under my umbrella. Better than having you walk home alone in the snow and catching pneumonia before nationals.”

Kiichi flushed pink. “I wasn’t gonna–”

“Are you coming along or not?”

“I, uh...” Kiichi blinked stupidly at the umbrella and gave his head a quick shake, as if to assure himself that he hadn’t misunderstood anything, then he stepped forward. “Okay.”

\---

A flurry of snowflakes greeted them as they stepped outside, soft and white and fluffy, freezing cold and dancing in front of their eyes, settling on their clothes, in their hair, their eyelashes, fogging up Kimishita’s glasses. The giant umbrella held off the largest part of the snow falling around them like a winter wonderland, but it was still freezing cold, and they inadvertently crowded closer together as they walked, watching their breaths form clouds that drifted off into the winter air.

Ooshiba clutched the umbrella in his hands, his heart leaping somersaults in his chest. Kimishita was so close. They were walking home together, sharing an umbrella in the snow... it was just like a movie. It was exactly like the stupid shoujo manga Mikoto kept on reading when she thought no one was looking, the ones that Ooshiba couldn’t look at anymore because they reminded him of how much he wanted to do all the cheesy, cute things depicted in them, and they served as nothing but a constant reminder that he could never do any of it with Kimishita.

Or so he had thought before today.

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, but he was glad it was snowing. He was glad practice had been canceled and he couldn’t get a ride home and hadn’t brought an umbrella. He was immensely glad things had happened the way they had, glad to get to spend time alone with Kimishita like this, even if it wasn’t the way he had secretly dreamed of.

He had been so frustrated when practice had been canceled earlier. No afternoon practice obviously meant no more soccer for today, but to him it had meant much more. No practice meant less time spent playing together with Kimishita. And no practice, a small, guilty part of him added, meant that Kimishita wouldn’t spend time with Mizuki either, and he wouldn’t have another excuse to hug Kimishita and hold onto him for comfort like he had done this morning. That was an awful way of thinking, wishing for his crush to be hurt by the person he loved, he realized, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be close to Kimishita, no, he needed it, and every missed opportunity for it felt like another part of him crumbling down to dust, until only craving was left inside him. If there was a way... any way...

Kimishita’s arm brushed against his, and his heart skipped a beat. He was so close. Close enough to reach out and grab his hand and hold it for the entire rest of the way, lying something about being cold when he asked. But he couldn’t do that. Kimishita only wanted to do that kind of thing with Mizuki.

People bustled past them in the street. Most of them were holding their umbrellas low against the wind, hiding their faces, hurrying down the streets with shopping bags in their hands. Others walked more slowly, stopping at store windows, looking inside, curious and contemplative, sometimes going inside, sometimes shaking their heads and walking on. Children stopped on their parents’ hands, staring at the candy and toy shops with desire. The city shone and glistened. Everywhere they went, everywhere they looked the buildings were decorated with twinkling lights and pine branches and colorful ornament, shimmering, shining, each shop and each building trying to look more radiant and glow brighter than the next.

Kimishita looked around the snowy picture, taking in the twinkling wonderland. “Oh, right,” he muttered to himself. “It’s almost Christmas, huh.”

_A holiday for couples._  Ooshiba felt a slight stab at the thought, and suddenly the radiant ornaments seemed to be mocking him.

Kimishita would probably be going somewhere with Mizuki. They were a couple, after all... but then again Kimishita probably wouldn’t suggest it on his own. Maybe they wouldn’t be doing anything. Maybe Ooshiba should snatch him away for the day while he had the chance, take him on another date like the aquarium and Skytree one–

But Kimishita probably  _wanted_  to spend Christmas with Mizuki, didn’t he?

Maybe it was best to ask.

“Hey,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the umbrella, staring at the mingling footprints in the snow. “You gonna spend it with Captain?”

Kimishita almost stopped walking. His face flushed a little redder than it already was from the cold. “I...” For a moment he didn’t seem sure himself. “If he suggests it. I guess. Don’t think he will.”

He sounded so frustrated that it took Ooshiba all of his willpower to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

_If he doesn’t, I’m gonna go with you._

It would be such an easy sentence to say. It would fit so well. Mizuki didn’t know how to be a proper boyfriend, and Ooshiba would offer to be the replacement. Again. A simple excuse, and he could make sure Kimishita would spend this Christmas happy and loved.

But he didn’t say that. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “Why don’t you ask him?”

Kimishita tensed up, then a shadow passed over his eyes and he hung his head. “Then he’ll just be going out of his way to accommodate me again,” he muttered. “What’s the point of that?”

“All couples spend Christmas together. He’s not gonna be happy when he finds out you didn’t ask him to do a thing you’d expect from a boyfriend.” Why did he say that? Why did he keep saying these things? Encouraging Kimishita like that... what was wrong with him?

“Nobody expects anything!” Kimishita buried his hands in the pockets of his huge coat. “And it’s not like... it’s not like he has to find out.”

“When do you wanna ask him on a date, then?”

Kimishita gritted his teeth. “I–”

“Do you never wanna ask him out, ever?”

“That’s–”

“Then why don’t you break up with him?”

Kimishita flinched.

“I... I told you already, idiot!” he said hectically. “He offered this to me, it’d be ungrateful to–”

“It’s ungrateful to not ask shit of him when he wants you to do that too.”

Another stab shot through Ooshiba’s chest. He understood this feeling, he realized. He knew it. He knew it all too well.

Kimishita paused, contemplating the argument. Then he gave a quiet sigh. “I’d still feel indebted to him...”

“Then pay him back,” Ooshiba said, pointing at the shops around them. “Get him a present or some shit.”

Kimishita pondered the suggestion with a frown. His thoughts roamed over the street. “Not a bad idea,” he muttered. “But then he’d feel obliged to get me one too...”

Ooshiba shrugged. “Then surprise him.”

Kimishita had nothing more to reply to that. Giving a defeated sigh, he let his eyes roam over the shops and finally settled on one selling scarves, hats and gloves.

They shuffled past the crowd, stepping inside and looking around the displays and the young people standing between the shelves, visibly searching for something to get their loved ones. Kimishita rummaged through his bag and pulled out his wallet, throwing a shy glance inside it and then starting to search through the shop, looking at price tag after price tag and sighing.

“Need some cash?” Ooshiba offered quietly. “I can lend you some.” Not that he would ever expect it back, he thought.

Kimishita shook his head. “No, thanks. Need to pay for this on my own.”

And he searched on, looking through the hats, then the gloves. For a moment his eyes lingered on a shiny black leather pair stuffed with wool, warm and elegant, then he glanced at the price tag and clicked his tongue, turning away from the gloves with visible difficulty.

He went on to look through the scarves, and just as Ooshiba thought he would give up on this shop and suggest a different one Kimishita stopped, picked up a huge knitted dark blue scarf, and went to the desk to pay. The scarf that Mizuki would wear around his neck after Christmas, Ooshiba thought. It would suit him, probably. But, a tiny, bitter voice in his mind added, it would suit Ooshiba better.

“That’s settled,” Kimishita said as they walked back outside to be met with an icy gust of wind. “Let’s go home.”

They walked on, past the shopping district, moving steadily towards Kimishita’s home. The snow kept on falling. Kimishita was holding the bag with Mizuki’s gift in his hand, looking nervous but a little happier than before.

“By the way,” he said suddenly, “what about that person you like?”

Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat, two beats, three. All feeling disappeared from his hands. “What?”

“You talked me into asking Captain.” Kimishita didn’t meet his eyes. “Why don’t you try to ask them if they want to spend Christmas with you too?”

Oh, the irony. The irony.

Ooshiba looked away, his face flushing, his chest in knots. “They have plans,” he muttered.

“I see.”

The walked on in silence.

Then suddenly Kimishita stopped walking, grabbing the umbrella to stop Ooshiba too. “And Kiichi,” he grumbled. His face was tense and very pink. “I think I should probably... return your offer.”

Ooshiba blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the same things you offered me, idiot!” Kimishita snapped. “If you need to vent about them... or if you miss them too much and need a hug or whatever...” He swallowed. “I’m here.”

Ooshiba wanted to say a lot of things. He wanted to do a lot of things. He wanted to grab Kimishita and pull him into his arms right then and there and confess everything, everything he had been hiding, pour out his heart until Kimishita understood at last. Kimishita was basically asking him. He cared. He cared. He cared so much.

But when he opened his mouth, no words came out. He didn’t tackle Kimishita with a hug. He didn’t do anything. All he did was stand there with his mouth slightly open, fighting with the lump in his throat until at last he managed to rasp out, “Okay.”

Later on, as he went home alone, Ooshiba dropped into the store again and went to look for the gloves.


	21. Ice

School couldn’t end soon enough, and yet part of Kimishita was afraid of the afternoon. All day he did nothing but stare at the clock, willing it to move faster when it was slow, almost jumping with fear when it seemed to move faster. He couldn’t wait. But he wanted to wait forever. Because getting out of school meant going into the city with Mizuki, and never in his life had he felt less ready for that.

It was a miracle that the captain had agreed in the first place. It was a miracle that he hadn’t already had plans, and it was a miracle that he had said yes as soon as Kimishita had asked him, a promise that he had stuck with even when Kimishita had half feared, half hoped he wouldn’t. When the first-years had suggested a team Christmas party (undoubtedly Kazama’s idea), Kimishita had fully expected Mizuki to join in and postpone or cancel their date, but the captain had declined, answering that he already had important plans. Mizuki had kept his promise. And Kimishita had been left half glad, half terrified that he had listened to Kiichi’s advice and asked him in time.

His heart was fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t sit still. The bag with the scarf poked out of his schoolbag, brushing lightly against his leg when he moved it under the desk. He still couldn’t believe he had come this far. A few hours more until the beginning of their date... an hour... a few minutes... and still nothing had come in between. He was still half expecting something to come up at the last minute, leaving him frustrated and disappointed, wrapping himself in the scarf that should have been Mizuki’s. But by the time the bell rang and he jumped out of his seat and hurried to his locker before heading towards the gate, there was still nothing, nothing that could get between him and what could easily become the most wonderful or the most terrifying afternoon of his life.

Most likely both, honestly.

“Kimishita!”

He looked up. From the crowd of students moving around them on either side he spotted Mizuki’s face, moving past the people in front of him, coming to a stop a few feet away. “Sorry for the wait,” he said.

“I just got here myself,” Kimishita replied, even though he had no idea how long he had actually been standing here; he had lost all concept of time. He didn’t care, anyway. His eyes were focused on Mizuki, but he wasn’t looking at his face.

Had he always had this scarf?

It looked so new, so smooth and well-made. And it suited him so well. It looked much better on him than Kimishita’s scarf possibly could... and completely unfamiliar.

“Where...” He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual and feeling himself failing miserably. “Where’d you get that scarf?”

Mizuki glanced down at it, as if only just remembering it himself. “Oh.” He blinked in confusion. “Inohara knitted it. He made some for all the third-years on the team.”

Hand-knitted.

Much better than his present, in every conceivable way.

“I see,” Kimishita said quietly, stuffing his present deeper into his bag. “It’s... not bad.”

“Do you want one too?”

Kimishita was so caught off guard he forgot to feel ashamed for a moment. “What the–?!”

“I can ask him to make one for you.” Mizuki tugged at the scarf. “It’s not a problem.”

What in the world was he going on about? “I don’t want one!”

“It’s okay. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“I told you already, I don’t want it!”

“Ah. Too bad.” Mizuki’s face fell a little. “We could’ve matched.”

Kimishita gaped at him for a full second, processing his words. Then his heartbeat stumbled and tripped over his own feet, leaving him blushing bright red and struggling for words, making increasingly stupid grimaces at Mizuki for what felt like an eternity before he finally managed to stutter out, “Wh– Are you– Don’t make jokes like that out of the blue!”

What was wrong with this guy? Wearing matching scarves... There was no way they could possibly pull that off! Only couples did that!

Well, they were one, technically. But they didn’t feel like one. And Mizuki had definitely never wanted them to become one, except for Kimishita’s sake. So what was he looking so disappointed for? Had he been hoping to make Kimishita happy with this? Getting that disappointed over such a little thing... it was so misleading. Misleading. Misleading!

“I wasn’t joking,” Mizuki said in genuine surprise.

Kimishita didn’t know what to reply to that. He didn’t want to reply anything. Everything he could say now would evoke yet another response from Mizuki, a response that would either crush his faint hopes or mislead them even further. Once again he felt driven into a corner, frantically searching for an opening, a way out, an escape... without knowing what exactly he wanted to escape from in the first place. Mizuki? This awkward situation? His own feelings?

“Forget it,” he grumbled, turning and hurrying out through the school gate. “Let’s go before we freeze solid here!”

Mizuki gave him a confused look, but he dropped the topic and followed, falling into stride next to Kimishita, walking at a safe distance that was both comforting and frustrating. It was as if he could tell that Kimishita was mind-numbingly afraid of any physical contact between them, afraid of the craving that would raise its ugly head every time their arms brushed together on accident. Or maybe he had no idea and just wanted to avoid it for his own sake, because accidentally touching someone he knew was in love with him made him uncomfortable too.

No, Mizuki wasn’t that kind of person. He wouldn’t do something like that if he had agreed to go out with Kimishita in the first place.

Right?

But did he really know? In all the months of playing together, had he ever truly understood what was going on in Mizuki’s head?

He didn’t get him. No matter how much he tried, he didn’t understand him at all.

And he wasn’t exactly making himself understandable to Mizuki either.

If he thought about it, it was so stupid. They couldn’t communicate at all. Mizuki was so simple that it made him incomprehensible, and Kimishita was here second-guessing all their interactions, tripping over himself, panicking at everything, constantly feeling cornered, helpless, a walking embarrassment. He wanted to be with Mizuki so badly, but everything he did seemed destined to drive him away, only helping to make him look more and more unappealing than he already felt.

Maybe he should try and get out of this date after all, excuse himself and go home before he could embarrass himself even further.

Mizuki almost slipped on a bit of ice and grabbed Kimishita’s shoulder, steadying himself at the last second. “Sorry,” he said, letting go as Kimishita jumped three feet away, flustered and startled and trying to rein in his heartbeat. “I saw the ice and tried to practice.”

Kimishita scowled at him. “Practice what?”

“Ice skating.” Mizuki pointed at the slippery ground. “I’ve never gone before.”

For some reason this was both surprising and completely unsurprising. “Then what did you agree for?”

“It looks fun,” Mizuki answered with that typical way-too-serious look of his. “Have you gone skating before, Kimishita?”

Kimishita paused, trying to remember the last time he had set foot on the ice. It must have been some years; truthfully he had only thought about taking Mizuki when one of his neighbor ladies had given him a coupon, paired with the all-too-obvious hint that he might use it with the girl he liked. Well, she wouldn’t have to know the details. All that mattered was that he knew how to skate and wouldn’t humiliate himself, and that moving around would keep them both busy enough to help them over any awkward silences.

Right, he thought. The last time he had gone... he remembered again. The second year of middle school. Their team meeting up for a Christmas party together, deciding to go skating instead of the usual karaoke. Standing on the ice in borrowed skates, watching his teammates wobble and glide around, some of them spinning like amateur figure skaters, others holding onto the side of the rink for dear life. Beating everyone on the team in races and almost crashing into the wall several times. Kiichi bragging and showing off his supposed skills, only to lose balance at his first pirouette attempt and ungracefully sit down on his behind to the laughter of his teammates...

Kimishita just barely managed to suppress a chuckle. Good old memories. Perhaps he should take Kiichi skating again, just for old times’ sake.

Wait. But that was for later! As were such thoughts. He was with Mizuki right now, Mizuki and not Kiichi! What on earth was he getting so distracted for?

“Yes,” he said, glancing at his distorted shadow in another dangerous-looking patch of ice. “I used to go sometimes as a kid, but these days I don’t have time.”  _To say nothing of money,_  he added in his head.

“Are you good?”

What was Mizuki getting at? “I’m... not bad, I guess.”

“Okay.” Mizuki’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Then you can teach me.”

Teach... Mizuki?

Something that wasn’t academics, no less?

Kimishita almost slipped on the ice. Excitement spiked inside him, excitement and awestruck pride. Mizuki... was asking him to teach him something. Mizuki had faith in him as a teacher. Mizuki was giving him an opportunity to give something back to him, a token of gratitude for all the things the captain had given him without asking for anything in return.

A smile spread over his face. That was right, he thought. They didn’t always fail to understand each other. There were times when they clicked perfectly, when they didn’t need words to know exactly what the other was thinking. When it came to sports, they had a psychic connection. And maybe, if they worked on it, someday they’d be able to extend it to the rest of their lives.

“Fine,” he said, meeting Mizuki’s gaze with a challenging smirk. “I guess I can try, Captain.”

\---

When would their date be over, he wondered?

Ooshiba stood up from the couch, walking over to the window for what felt like the twenty-fifth time that day even though he knew there was no point to it. The date couldn’t have been going on for much longer than an hour, and even on the off chance that it spiraled into disaster and ended much too early, it wasn’t like Kimishita would somehow turn up on his doorstep afterwards, would he? No, he’d go home, try to get past his father with as little conversation as possible, and and curl up in his room alone for the rest of the day. Ooshiba wasn’t sure he’d even bother to text, let alone call. Kimishita had always been one to isolate himself when he was feeling bad, after all.

He wanted to see him.

Ooshiba turned to glance at his bag, peering inside in search of shiny silver wrapping paper. There it was, in its place where he had left it. A small present, neatly wrapped, the gloves he had bought on the way home the other day resting inside, biding their time. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to give them to Kimishita, he realized. The easiest option would probably have been to leave them in his locker or hand them to him at school. But if he had done that, the impression wouldn’t have lasted. Kimishita would have focused on Mizuki and completely forgotten about him afterwards. No, he had to give them to him after the date, even if he wasn’t sure when or how.

He wanted to catch Kimishita after the date. He wanted to comfort him if the date hadn’t gone well. He wanted to give him the gloves and see his face as he unwrapped them and put them on, awed and surprised. He wanted to get to him when his entire mind was focused on Mizuki and paint over his memories to leave a lasting, shining, radiant impression.

Then... putting it simply, the easiest version would be to wait in front of his door again.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the gift, put on his shoes, coat and gloves, and went outside.

\---

The ice rink was crowded. Much more crowded than Kimishita had anticipated, and even more crowded than he had feared.

He adjusted the laces of his borrowed skates and stepped out on the ice, trying not to knock into anyone. All around the rink people were moving around, some racing each other, some skating gracefully, others wobbling around like newborn fawn, struggling not to fall. He spotted friend groups goofing around on the ice and laughing when one of them fell, children laughing and pretending to be ice princes and princesses, a pair of girls teaching their wobbly-legged friend how to skate. And there were couples everywhere. Some were so lovey-dovey that they could barely keep their hands off each other even while skating, making Kimishita look away with shame; others were young and shy, nervously holding hands and blushing as they looked at everything but each other’s faces. But all of them were boy and girl pairs; there were no two boys or two girls who looked remotely like a couple, leaving Kimishita to wonder if they had all gone to different places or if they were just that good at pretending to just be friends in public.

Good thing he had something to do that would hopefully prevent him from looking too much in love, he thought.

Carefully keeping his balance, he turned around, extending a hand to help Mizuki onto the ice. The captain was visibly out of his comfort zone; he was standing on the blades like a foal on a pair of ropes, holding onto the side of the rink with both hands while studying the skates on his feet with a mixture of fear and fascination. Very, very slowly he let go with one hand, nearly lost balance and fell over, and gripped Kimishita’s arm to stumble and tumble onto the ice, narrowly stopping himself from accidentally sitting down on the freezing cold ground.

“I’m on the ice,” he said, grabbing Kimishita’s arm with his other hand and holding on for dear life. “And now?”

Kimishita nearly fell over backwards under the sudden weight. Mizuki was heavy, pulling him down, almost crushing his arm with his strong, muscular hands. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his eyes wide with curiosity, looking up at him from below as he stood half stooped down, wrapping his arms around Kimishita’s and clinging to it as if he wanted to wrap it in a tight, affectionate hug.

So warm. So close. So...  _cute_.

“F-First of all,” he said, turning away to avoid facing the look on Mizuki’s face, the way he was blinking up at him with those ridiculously brown eyes, the reddened cheeks, the serious, kind-hearted look that turned everything upside down inside him, “you should cling to the rink. The rink! Not me!”

“Oh.” If Kimishita didn’t know better, he would have thought that Mizuki sounded a little disappointed. No, that couldn’t be. Not in a million years. This was just his crush speaking, his last sliver of hope that refused to die down. Why wouldn’t it just die?

Mizuki’s arms slowly unwrapped themselves from Kimishita, leaving him chilly and shivering where his warm body had been seconds before. Standing freely for half a split second, he performed a less-than-graceful spin and clumsily landed against the rink, holding on with both hands as he struggled to regain his footing.

“Like this?”

He looked like an utter embarrassment, standing there leaning heavily on the railing, his legs drifting off in two opposite directions and nearly tripping the little girl who gracefully danced around him at the last second. But all beginners looked like this at first, Kimishita knew. He just had to help him out of this awkward position.

“It’s... a start,” he replied. “Now try to put more of your weight on your feet, straighten your body and–”

Mizuki turned his head to a spectacular degree and gave him the look of a confused dog.

“Stand up!” Seriously, how much could Kimishita simplify this explanation while still making a base amount of sense? “Don’t hang there! Stand on your feet, not your–”

Mizuki tilted his head to an angle Kimishita didn’t even know was humanly possible.

What should he do? Use sound effects to explain? But he didn’t understand those himself. If he tried that, he might as well try explaining this in Portuguese.

But then–  _oh_.

There was a way to do it. An easy way that didn’t involve words at all, and a way to keep Mizuki’s eyes on him whatever he did.

“Watch me,” he said, squeezing between Mizuki and some middle school kid who was taking up too much space. “I’ll show you.”

\---

It was getting dark, and still no sign of Kimishita.

Ooshiba breathed into his freezing hands, watching his breath form a cloud and wisp away in the icy winter air, snowy white and silent. The street around him was empty. Everyone who might usually go through here was either out in the city or safely inside, huddled up with a hot drink and Christmas cake and hopefully surrounded by their loved ones as they sat together in their warm houses, locking out the cold and the dark. More and more windows started lighting up all around, but there was no other sign of life, almost as if all of this was all a giant stage setting and the houses around him were nothing but props.

Ooshiba was chilled to the bone. He was stiff and freezing, unable to feel his hands or feet anymore, stubbornly clutching the package in his hands as he stared out onto the street, looking, searching for any sign of someone walking his way, searching for Kimishita’s silhouette, his huge coat and messy hair and quick, determined stride. He wondered where he was right now, what he was doing. Was he enjoying himself? Was he happy on this date? Or was he frustrated and lonely, secretly waiting for the moment he could finally turn his back on Mizuki and hurry home?

It was a terrible thought, but part of him hoped it was the latter. Part of him hoped that he would come home so disappointed and frustrated and starved for affection that he would stay in Ooshiba’s arms for the whole evening, warming them both up as they shut out the world and pretended everything was okay for a sweet, precious moment. Part of him hoped the date would end so terribly that Kimishita would understand the true value of Ooshiba’s actions and realize who was actually good for him.

But that wasn’t right. He couldn’t hope that. No matter what happened, he didn’t want Kimishita to be unhappy. He didn’t want him to be hurt and upset and heartbroken. Kimishita was the most precious, the most important person in his world, and even if they never ended up together he still wanted to see him happy.

And yet– how could he not hope for all those cruel things if they meant a tiny taste of the thing he was craving the most?

Was that how Kimishita felt about Mizuki, he wondered? Was it the same, this burning desire, the need to be close to the one person who didn’t love him back no matter how much he hoped? The secret wish to cross all the lines and go against that person’s feelings just for his own happiness? The guilt and shame over his own thoughts?

_I think I get it, Kimishita. I get how you feel._

But they still weren’t the same, he thought. Kimishita had him to listen to all his troubles and worries and feelings whenever he felt terrible about how things were going with Mizuki and needed an outlet or someone to keep his feet on the ground. Who did Ooshiba have? Who could he tell the truth, without covering up, without masquerades and vague, awkward answers? Who was in love with him the way he loved Kimishita, ready to listen to his deepest, darkest secrets even when they were crushing their soul?

If he thought about it, Kimishita was really damn lucky after all. Unhappy and heartbroken, sure. But lucky for his situation.

What was he doing this for?

What was he standing out here in the street for, in the freezing cold, clutching a gift, waiting for someone who might only show up in several hours? What was he trying so hard for? He should be worth more than that. He should be too good to go running after someone who couldn’t appreciate him at all.

Except... he didn’t love a hypothetical someone. He loved  _Kimishita_. And every tiny smile, every friendly gesture, every returned hug, every grumble and awkward thanks was enough to make all this trouble a million times worth it.

“You must be cold.”

Ooshiba almost dropped the package. Stiff from the cold, he turned around, finding himself looking into an open door and at the friendly smiling face of Kimishita’s father.

“Kiichi-kun, was it?” he said, his eyes glinting with an understanding warmth. “You’ve been standing out here for some time. Are you waiting for Atsushi?”

“Uh...” Ooshiba glanced down at his hands and then back at Kimishita’s father. “Yeah.”

“Ah, sorry, he went out today.” Kimishita’s father gave a sheepish smile. “He didn’t say when he’d be back... Do you want to come wait for him inside? I can make hot chocolate too, to warm you up.” He laughed. “Don’t want you turning into a popsicle out here, do we?”

Ooshiba hesitated. Part of him was embarrassed to accept this offer; going into Kimishita’s house without Kimishita in it felt weird, and he had never been alone with his father before but he was desperate to make a good impression, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act around him. But the air was getting colder outside as the sky turned darker, and the brightly-lit shop was shining invitingly in his face, as inviting as the eyes of the man standing in the doorframe with an ugly Christmas sweater. This place was nice. So was this man. And before he froze to death out here, might as well accept it.

“Okay,” he mumbled, looking at his toes as he shuffled inside, feeling his whole body relaxing in the sudden warmth. “Thank you.”

\---

“Kimishita, look!” Mizuki glided by on the ice, still a little awkward in his movements but balanced and steady, his arms spread wide and his eyes sparkling like a pair of stars at the top of a Christmas tree. “I can do it.”

Kimishita leaned back against the railing, watching the captain skate back and forth with a proud, appreciative smile on his face. Mizuki was a fast learner. All he had to do was observe Kimishita’s movements and he had figured it out in no time, and there was something amazingly, overwhelmingly beautiful in the knowledge that he was the reason for the look on Mizuki’s face, the pure, childlike joy sparkling in his eyes like fairy lights. He felt his face heat up as his chest swelled with pride, straightening up to stand taller as he shouted, “Good job!”

Mizuki turned and skated back to him, his eyes still shining with awe and delight. “You’re a super good teacher,” he said with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Thank you.”

An even hotter blush. Kimishita turned his head in the attempt to hide his glowing face, the proud smirk fading into a flustered scowl as he answered, “I didn’t do anything. You’re a good student is all.”

“You did super well.”

“You did more.”

Mizuki didn’t answer for a moment, as if contemplating what to reply to that. Kimishita continued to stare towards the entrance of the rink. A mother was ushering her unwilling children off the ice in a hurry while a shy-looking boy and girl made their way into the rink hand in hand, looking nervous and happy to be seen together like this. Two middle school-aged boys knocked into each other and started to pick a fight until their friend groups forcefully dragged them apart, and–

Kimishita paused. His eyes rested on a boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, sitting all alone next to the entrance, glancing anxiously at his phone with a bouquet of flowers hanging numbly from his hand.

He wondered what had happened to that poor kid. He looked lost. And lonely. From the way he looked he had clearly come here for a date, perhaps even his first, but his date wasn’t arriving. Was she late? Had he been stood up? Poor kid. Getting ditched like that on Christmas Day... having to spend it alone when everyone around him was together with their favorite people, having fun...

_What about that person you like?_

_They have plans._

Kimishita swallowed, the air around him suddenly feeling several degrees colder. Why was he remembering that conversation now? This has nothing to do with– with–

It was the same, wasn’t it? Kiichi too... he was spending this Christmas alone, unseen or rejected by the person he loved, only able to watch as everyone around him was out having fun. And to Kiichi this had to mean so much. He was such a romantic... to think of him sitting at home right now, thinking about the person who had ignored him for someone who probably wasn’t even worth it...

_Stop it._

It couldn’t be that bad, Kimishita tried to tell himself. Kiichi had his family. As far as he knew his sister was single too, and their parents were probably home, and they celebrated Christmas together with delicious cake and a gigantic shiny Christmas tree. Kiichi might be heartbroken, but he’d be fine. He wasn’t alone.

And Kimishita had his own date with Mizuki to mind, anyway.

“Want to skate a round?”

He turned back to follow Mizuki’s pointed hand as he encompassed the entire rink with one gesture, his expression curious and questioning. Kimishita coughed and nodded, trying to swallow the odd feeling still lingering at the back of his throat, and suddenly found Mizuki’s gloved hand firmly closing around his own.

“What the–?!” he burst out, barely stopping himself from yanking it away like it was on fire, his eyes darting about, searching for anyone who might stare. “What are you–?”

“So that I don’t fall,” Mizuki answered flatly, tightening his grip. “Do you mind?”

In public. In front of so many people who could see them, judge them, who might recognize him or Mizuki or spread rumors or– or– or–

Except no one was looking, really. Everyone was too busy with their own dates or friend groups to notice the two of them at all, too occupied with trying to steer clear of anyone they might crash into to pay close attention. They might be safe, for the time being. And as soon as anyone looked he could still pull away.

So he affirmed his grip around Mizuki’s hand, giving an awkward nod and pretending to be extremely interested in the Christmas decorations on the ceiling. “Fine. For now.”

They set into motion, shaky and clumsy at first but quickly falling into stride, their movements synchronizing as they moved over the ice like one body instead of two. Mizuki’s hand was warm even through the glove, his grip firm yet gentle, and for a moment Kimishita thought this was almost okay. For a moment they were just like a real couple, just like how he had always imagined them if they ever got together for real, like the shameful daydreams his sleepy mind had conjured up when he still felt wide awake at two in the morning. This was okay. No, this was good. He wished they could always stay that way.

A shout snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone moved into his field of vision, almost too fast to see, and the next moment he crashed hard into something and lost his balance, toppling backwards, Mizuki stumbling and falling down on top of him.

The world stood still.

For a moment Kimishita thought this was a dream. This couldn’t be real. Mizuki was lying right on top of him, one hand propped up next to his shoulder to slow down the fall, the other still gripping Kimishita’s hand. His body was warm and heavy. He was still breathing hard from the exercise, small clouds of breath escaping from his lips and dissipating into thin air, his cheeks and lips pink and flushed from the cold and close, so close, mere inches from his face... if he could only reach up, if he could only touch his face and–

What was this feeling? This situation... why was it...

_Familiar?_

Kimishita’s heart skipped a beat. He remembered. This exact same situation... knocking into someone, losing balance, dragging someone down on top of him... it had happened before. It had been Kiichi back then, lying on his chest, crushing his ribcage, his face inches from Kimishita’s and glowing red, burning...

What was he thinking? What was he remembering that for?

Kiichi... Mizuki...

This feeling...

He sat up, pushing Mizuki off his body. Scrambling to his feet, he yanked Mizuki up and hurried towards the exit, his head and thoughts spinning. What was he thinking about... this should feel different... he had ended up in a compromising situation with Mizuki of all people, Mizuki, his boyfriend, his desperate one-sided crush... so why on earth was he not flustered because of him? Why was he here drawing parallels between him and Kiichi? After causing him so much trouble too, making him go here with him instead of the Christmas party the others had suggested when he didn’t even know how to skate... what was wrong with him?

“Kimishita?” Mizuki called after him, scrambling out of the ice rink to follow. “What’s wrong?”

What in the world should he say to that?!

“It’s late!” he shouted back, not meeting the captain’s gaze. “Our coupons are only worth two hours, if we stay here any longer we’ll have to pay up!”

It was a lie. But he didn’t want to stay here any longer. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t know where he should be, where he wanted to be. But it wasn’t this place. It wasn’t this ice rink, and it wasn’t next to Mizuki... Mizuki, who had done so much for him and who he still couldn’t repay.

But if he was honest, he didn’t really feel like Mizuki was the only one he was failing here. Kiichi... hadn’t he promised Kiichi to be there for him too? Of course he was thinking of him. What was he doing, goofing around with Mizuki who hadn’t even wanted to go here in the first place when Kiichi couldn’t even see the person he liked?

He glanced back towards the ice rink. The boy with the flowers was gone.

\---

They didn’t slow down until the cross-section where their ways home parted. Kimishita didn’t speak on the whole way, only ever staring at the ground or ahead, torn between guilt about Mizuki, guilt about Kiichi, and shame about acting like such a mess.

“Well, Captain...” He could feel Mizuki’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up and meet his eyes. “Thanks for today. And sorry for, you know...”

_Sorry for what?_  he thought.  _Thinking about my old crush when I was supposed to be out with you?_

Mizuki made a kind little sound, and Kimishita knew he was smiling. “You’re welcome.”

Silence.

Kimishita fiddled with his gloves, suddenly reluctant to leave. The scarf still rested in his bag. Now was a good opportunity to hand it to him, he knew.

"I’m... heading home then.” He turned away. “See you tomorrow.”

“Kimishita, wait.”

He paused, his heart hammering against his chest.

“I heard...” Mizuki’s voice sounded thoughtful, confused, as if he was pondering something unfamiliar. “I heard that after Christmas dates couples usually kiss. Do you want a goodbye kiss?”

Kimishita’s heart stopped.

A kiss. From Mizuki. Mizuki was offering to kiss him. Here. Now.

No way. He couldn’t accept that.

“No!” he burst out, so violently that Mizuki flinched. “No thanks,” he said more quietly, his face burning with shame. “Thanks, but I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” Kimishita swallowed. The next words burned like poison on his tongue, a bitter truth, harsh and painful. “Because you should save that up for someone you love.”

A very long silence.

“Okay. See you, Kimishita.”

“Bye.”

Kimishita turned and stumbled home, his thoughts more confused and jumbled than ever.

\---

“Aren’t you going to answer those texts?”

Ooshiba looked up at Kimishita’s father, horror dawning on his face. He had been dreading this question ever since his phone had started buzzing. He knew exactly who all those messages were from, and he didn’t want to see them. But now, after this remark... he didn’t have a choice.

Just as he reached towards his phone it stopped buzzing and gave a ring, and Ooshiba almost dropped it. For a second he hoped it might not be from her. Maybe it was from Kimishita, he thought. He quickly scratched that hope, and sure enough, the caller ID read  _Sis_.

“Kiichi!” Mikoto shouted from the speaker without giving him the chance to open his mouth. “Where on earth are you, you idiot brother? Mom and Dad are all worried!”

“I, uh...” What was he supposed to say?

“Playing around again, are you? Oh, for crying out loud!” Mikoto gave a loud sigh that turned into half a huff. “We’ve been wanting to start with Christmas dinner for half an hour, and all we’re waiting for is you! You better hurry home right now before we send you to bed hungry tonight!”

“But–”

“No buts! If I let you off the hook now, Mom and Dad are going to kill me too, got it? You have ten minutes to get back!”

She hung up, and Ooshiba was left staring numbly at the gift.

He should really go home, he knew that. But the gift... Kimishita...

“Is that for Atsushi?” Kimishita’s father asked, making him blush bright red. “If something came up, don’t worry about it. I can pass it on to him.”

No. It wasn’t the same.

But... he had no choice.

He looked at the gift. Then at Kimishita’s father. Then at the door. Back at the gift.

Then an idea struck him.

\---

“I’m home,” Kimishita muttered, so weakly and quietly he was surprised his father heard him at all.

“Welcome home, Atsushi,” the familiar voice called back as he hurried through the store, trying to avoid his father’s eyes as best as he could to rush into the apartment, kick off his shoes and throw off his coat and gloves and hide in his room to sort out his thoughts. “You’re late. Someone waited for you here, you know.”

Kimishita stopped in his tracks.

Had he heard that right? No way, it couldn’t be...

His father smiled and placed something into his hands. “He left you this.”

Kimishita stared at the wrapped gift in his hands. There was a note attached to it that he quickly put away to tear open the silver paper and hold his breath. Contained inside the package... oh, that idiot.

It was the very pair of gloves he had looked at so longingly at the store the other day. When he tried them on they fit perfectly, and as he turned them round and round in incredulous awe his eyes fell on the small, messily scribbled note.

_Merry Christmas nerd._


	22. Christmas

Kimishita stared at the note, then back at the gloves, slowly turning his hands back and forth, opening and closing his fingers, half wondering if he had passed out somewhere and this was all a dream, ready to collapse on itself like a soap bubble the moment he opened his eyes. But the more he stared, the more he moved his hands, the more real the situation became. The black leather of the gloves was soft and smooth and shiny, yielding gently to his every move, wrapping perfectly around his hands, the woollen lining inside keeping them snug and warm. They felt like something from someone else’s possession, too good, too precious to be his, and yet they fit him like they had never been meant to be worn by anyone else but him.

So soft. So warm. So much better than his old gloves, so much better than anything he had ever owned. He never wanted to take them off again, ever.

A smile tugging at his mouth, he smoothed the note in his hands, short and simple and yet saying more than a thousand words. If he hadn’t instantly figured out who the gloves had come from, this scribbled message would have given it away. There was only one person in the world who wrote like this, one person in the world who had this scribbly, almost illegible but strangely elegant handwriting, one person in the world who would call him nerd while giving him a present worth more than his entire wardrobe. Kiichi... sometimes he honestly didn’t know what to do with this idiot. Sometimes he didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve him, either.

“Ooh, those are pretty!”

Kimishita looked up, hastily hiding the note as if it was saying something worth hiding, his smile faltering as he met his father’s gaze. His father smiled back at him, cheerful and, as he felt, a little knowing, looking at the gloves in shiny-eyed wonder.

“They’re so well-made,” he said, expertly running a finger along the leather. “They must’ve been expensive... Not something you’d usually give to a friend for Christmas, is it?”

Kimishita stared at the gloves. In all honesty he couldn’t help feeling the same. They were such a precious gift, especially for someone like him who didn’t even care what he was wearing as long as he was warm... were friends supposed to be giving things like this to each other in Kiichi’s mind? Had he just wanted to be generous? Or...

Did this... mean something? Coming here when Kimishita was on his date with Mizuki just to drop this off... He wasn’t trying to preemptively play the replacement yet again, was he?

But then it was weird that he had only dropped in and not waited for him to hand it to him in person. Was he embarrassed? Now? Unlikely. Had he not had time, maybe? But what was he supposed to be doing? It didn’t make sense–

“Good kid, that Kiichi-kun,” his father continued, still with that half-knowing edge in his voice. “A little overbearing, maybe. Waited outside the door in the cold till I invited him inside, and he would’ve stayed here till you came back if his sister hadn’t made him go home– Atsushi?”

Kimishita dropped the note. His eyes were locked on the gloves, staring at them as though they were possessed.

So this was what happened.

Kiichi hadn’t quickly dropped by to leave this present here. Kiichi had been waiting for him for a long time, possibly for hours. He had been fully prepared to stay outside in the freezing cold until he came home, just to comfort him after the date and hand him this present... all to make him feel better.

What was he still doing here?

Kimishita clenched his fists. He was glad he had come home when he had. And yet he regretted not making it back earlier. Why hadn’t he caught Kiichi here? He had so obviously wanted to meet him, wanted to see him. Kiichi, who didn’t even have a date for Christmas because the person who had stolen his heart was so bluntly unaware, who had talked him into a date while staying home by himself, envying all the people who had someone to meet. Kiichi, who had come here in the hopes of comforting him and being comforted, a precious few minutes of being lonely together after being reminded of their one-sided feelings among all the other people’s happiness all day.

What was he doing here? Had he not offered Kiichi to be there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on? What was he still doing, relying on him without ever giving anything back?

This had to stop now. He had to do something. He had to go and see Kiichi and thank him for the gift in person. Face to face. Eye to eye. Close enough to observe his reactions, only a few steps away in case he needed physical comfort.

Picking up the note from the floor and stuffing it into the pocket of his coat, he turned around and started hurrying back towards the door. “Sorry, Pops,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m going out again.”

\---

It had started snowing again as Kimishita rounded the corner and strode down the street where Kiichi lived. The air was freezing cold and painful in his lungs, but his body was warm from the exercise, and he picked up his pace as the brightly illuminated windows of Kiichi’s house moved into sight, fairy lights and twinkling ornaments decorating every spot human hands could reach. It looked warm, he thought, warm and happy and inviting, as if calling for him to hurry up and reach it faster so that he, too, could bask in the warmth and happiness.

Then he reached the doorstep, standing in the warm, gentle light of a thousand tiny lamps and the bright, welcoming windows, and suddenly his sense of reality kicked in.

What was he doing here? Right here... right now...

The family was probably all together now, he thought, sitting inside and enjoying dinner, perhaps, or exchanging small gifts, or whatever families like them did together on the evening of Christmas Day. And here was he, still in his school uniform, bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder, standing here after coming to this house on a whim. Where were his manners? He couldn’t just barge in here uninvited... could he? Perhaps he should wait. Or call Kiichi first, or at least text him.

Then again, he was already here. What was the point in leaving when he had already walked all the way to this place? He’d just have to keep the visit short. Not that he had planned to stay long in the first place, anyway.

So he took a deep breath, rang the doorbell, and hoped that Kiichi would open.

There was a moment’s silence. Then footsteps hurried up to the door, too light and feminine to be Kiichi’s. His sister, perhaps. Kimishita adjusted himself. That would be a little awkward. But he’d manage.

The door opened, and Kimishita wasn’t looking at Kiichi’s sister. The woman in front of him was a little shorter and definitely older; her hair was the same shade of red as Kiichi’s, pulled into a complicated updo, her bright eyes accented by subtle makeup, her clothes elegant and visibly expensive. For a moment she looked startled to see Kimishita, then a sort of understanding seemed to dawn on her face, and she met his eyes with a friendly, welcoming smile.

“Hello,” she said in a voice that immediately brought an older version of Kiichi’s sister to mind. “Can I help you?”

Kiichi’s mother. There was no doubt.

Just his luck.

Adjusting his posture, Kimishita gave a polite bow, avoiding the woman’s intelligent gaze as best as he could. She was beautiful, he thought, there was no way around that. So that was where Kiichi got his looks from...

Best not to think about that when things were already awkward enough.

“Good evening,” he said in his best polite tone. “Pardon the disruption. I’m Kiichi’s teammate from the soccer club... I’d like to have a word with him, if you don’t mind.”

Kiichi’s mother observed him for a very long moment. Then she started laughing.

Kimishita straightened up, his face flushing with embarrassment as if she had somehow read his thoughts. His eyes darted from side to side. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t possibly snap at his friend’s mother!

“Excuse me,” he forced out at last. “Did I say something funny?”

“Oh, sorry.” Kiichi’s mother stopped laughing, although she still couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “It’s just so funny to see you all formal after watching you interact with Kiichi on the pitch... Kimishita-kun, the eternal jersey number ten, am I right?”

Kimishita blushed even redder. “Y-You... saw me before?”

“Of course. Even a busy doctor occasionally watches her son’s matches, you know?” She gazed down at him with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “And Kiichi talks about you a lot. Thank you for looking after our idiot son, we all appreciate it.”

“Y-You’re welcome.” Kimishita looked anywhere but at the lady. So much for a good first impression, he thought. Why had he never noticed Kiichi’s parents in the crowd? Kiichi had never even mentioned them watching, or he would have looked out for them and tried to behave himself. Not that his current self wanted to leave a perfect impression on Kiichi’s parents in particular, even if past him would have died with shame at this whole conversation. He still hated embarrassing himself in front of adults though. And this was an embarrassment if he ever knew one.

“Well,” Kiichi’s mother said, expertly brushing over the awkward silence, “it’s a pleasure to meet you in person at last. We just finished dinner, would you like to wait inside while I– no, hold on. You can come get him with me if you want.”

Kimishita blinked stupidly as if expecting her to take back the offer, but she didn’t, and he stiffly took off his coat and shoes, bowing low as he stepped inside. “Pardon the intrusion.”

Barring the shining and sparkling decoration, the house still looked much the same as the last few times Kimishita had been here. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it; it was like going through a museum, afraid to touch anything, afraid to even look at anything for fear of accidentally breaking it. Kiichi’s mother only added to the picture; she was walking ahead of him with surprising grace for her striking height, her clothes and hair and jewelry perfectly in place and probably worth more than Kimishita and his father could afford to spend on the necessities in a month. But the more he watched her as he followed her through intimidatingly large, tall rooms, the more he saw Kiichi in her movements; it was in the way she moved her hands, the way she set her feet, the way she held her head, high and confident. She really was his mother, even if she seemed too sophisticated and classy to be related to this awkward idiot at all.

And then they set foot into the dining room, and for a moment Kimishita was blinded.

Blinking, he squinted at the bright lights that greeted him from every direction. They were everywhere, on the windows, the walls, the table, amplified by a thousand shimmering red and gold ornaments. Standing on the opposite end of the room, dark green and opulent, was the tallest, most beautiful Christmas tree he had ever seen in his life.

Kiichi’s mother turned to address the table, still covered in a shimmery tablecloth and decorated with candles and things Kimishita didn’t know how to name, but thankfully already cleared from the undoubtedly mouth-watering food that must have been on it a few minutes earlier. “Kiichi,” she said, stepping aside to point at Kimishita, “you have a visitor.”

Kiichi met his eyes over the rim of the cup he had been drinking from and almost choked on his drink.

“What the fuck!” he spluttered as soon as his coughing subsided under the blank-faced back slaps of his sister. “Wha– What are you doing here?”

_I’m the Spirit of Christmas Past. I’ve come to haunt you,_  Kimishita would have loved to say, but one glance at Kiichi’s mother next to him and his father sitting at the table was enough to make him swallow the remark. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said instead. “If you have time.”

And alone, he added in his head, but he didn’t have to say that one out loud. Kiichi was already on his feet, almost tripping over his chair, only remembering to push it up against the table when his sister shot him a scathing look. “I’m free,” he said quickly. Putting on an important air, he turned back to his family and added, “This is a private discussion. Don’t interrupt us.”

His sister rolled her eyes so hard Kimishita was amazed they didn’t roll out of her head. His parents only exchanged a mildly surprised glance and nodded. Kiichi raised his head even higher, turned back to Kimishita, and led him out of the room, steering them back through the house and towards the door.

“Wait,” Kimishita said as Kiichi took his coat from the hanger and held it out for him to slip into. “Where are we going?”

Kiichi gave a shrug. “Out.”

“Out, my ass! I only wanted to talk you for a moment, it’s not like I’m planning a longer discus–”

“You don’t wanna talk?” Kiichi interrupted him, his gaze oddly serious. “About... what happened today?”

“I...”

Kimishita hesitated. Of course Kiichi would expect that. He had gone out with Mizuki after all, and after their previous date he had been anything but happy. Truth be told, he wasn’t happy today either... but should he really tell him?

Images flashed back through his mind. The boy sitting on the side of the rink with his phone and his flowers. Mizuki toppling and falling on top of him. Memories of Kiichi flickering and mingling with the present in his mind. Guilt. Regret. Confusion. So much confusion.

A confusion he couldn’t tell Kiichi about no matter what. Not him of all people. Not Kiichi.

But... maybe that wasn’t even why Kiichi was asking. Maybe he wanted to talk too, vent his frustrations after staying home while the person he loved was out in the city enjoying themselves with someone else, get all these annoying, useless feelings off his chest after having to hide them the entire afternoon. And if that was the case, Kimishita couldn’t deny him the wish. Anything else would be selfish.

“...Do you?”

Kiichi looked at him with wide eyes, looking like a child for a moment, then he lowered his head and shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Learn to give clear answers, idiot.” Quietly clicking his tongue, Kimishita slipped on his coat and leaned against the door, studying the pattern of the floor. “Fine, let’s take a walk. But if I catch a cold I’ll kill you.”

\---

“So?”

Kimishita stopped walking, turning around to face Kiichi where he stood on the sidewalk, his hands buried in his pockets, the Christmas lights around them reflecting in his eyes. They had come to a crosswalk a few blocks from Kiichi’s house, at a road that was busier than the quiet street they had just come from, cars and people rushing by without paying the two lost high school students much attention. A shopping district began on the opposite side of the crosswalk, and people were hustling and bustling with last-minute shopping, running around carrying expensive food and opulent cakes and not looking at anything but the way ahead, eager to be back in the warmth of their homes.

“What, so?”

Kiichi stared at the ground as though he didn’t want to move any further out of the quiet street, out into the loud, bustling life of the road ahead. “What’d you come here for?” he asked. “To my place.”

Kimishita sighed.

This was somehow a bad place to tell him, he thought. In front of them it was crowded and busy, behind them quiet, but all the windows were lit, behind them people who might spot the two of them at any second. If he could choose, he would have preferred a little more privacy. Not that they were doing anything forbidden, he added in his mind. They weren’t even doing anything particularly embarrassing. He just didn’t want to be so... exposed.

And yet they had already been walking next to each other in silence for ten dragging minutes. How much longer was he planning to keep Kiichi waiting? If he wanted to thank him, he might as well do it now instead of pushing it off any longer.

“The gloves, idiot.”

For a second Kiichi looked confused, then he blushed, stubbornly avoiding Kimishita’s eyes but sneaking a quick glance at his hands where they rested inside the new gloves, blushing even redder. “Oh. Uh.”

Kimishita glanced down at the gloves and could feel his own face flushing too, as if Kiichi’s embarrassment was somehow contagious. “What did you do that for?” he grumbled, fidgeting with the black leather. “You shouldn’t have!”

“Shut up.” Kiichi buried his nose in the collar of his coat, but Kimishita could tell he was pouting like a stubborn child. “I wanted to.”

“They’re still too expensive! I told you, stop wasting your money on me! This kind of gift is something you should only give to–”

Kimishita froze mid-sentence, his face growing unnaturally hot in the icy cold as the realization hit him.  _To a lover_ , he finished the sentence in his head. Friends didn’t give each other expensive gifts for Christmas. That was reserved for couples. Even when the friends in question were as rich and uselessly generous as Kiichi.

“I wanted to,” Kiichi repeated stubbornly, every part of him bristling in defense. “I thought... Captain wouldn’t get you anything. It’s not fair that you’re the only one who got him a gift.”

Kimishita paled. His eyes flitted frantically to the scarf still lying in his bag, as though hoping that he had somehow managed to hand it over without noticing.

“I...” What should he do? What should he do? He had completely forgotten about it! “I didn’t give him anything.”

Kiichi raised his head, the lower half of his face reappearing from behind his collar. The blush had disappeared in his face, replaced by baffled confusion. “You got him the scarf.”

Oh, this was embarrassing. After Kiichi had talked him into getting the gift too... This was so, so embarrassing.

“I did,” Kimishita snapped defensively, burying his hand in his bag to try and shove the scarf out of sight. “Emphasis lies on  _got him_.”

Kiichi blinked at him in complete incomprehension for a long, terrifying moment, then understanding dawned on his face, paired with a complex emotion Kimishita couldn’t put into words. “You...” His eyes went round, shining with something that Kimishita didn’t understand, the words to describe it slipping through his hands as he tried to grasp them. “You didn’t... give it to him?” he asked softly. “Why?”

He didn’t sound angry. Not even disappointed. In fact, the glint of emotion in his voice seemed almost... hopeful?

No. That had to be Kimishita’s imagination. After all, why should he feel hopeful about that when he had suggested the whole deal in the first place?

Well, whatever it was, it made it all the easier to explain what had happened.

Kimishita took a deep breath. He let it out again, closing his eyes. “Captain already had a new scarf.”

Kiichi’s face fell a little, even if Kimishita wasn’t sure why. The hope-like glint disappeared from his eyes. “And?”

“It was hand-knitted,” Kimishita added, staring at the ground in bitter defeat. There was no use lying anymore, no use pretending. “Inohara-senpai made scarves for all the third-years on the team, apparently. And mine was just store-bought... and wouldn’t suit him like that anyway.”

Kiichi didn’t reply. After a very long silence Kimishita swallowed and glanced up, meeting his eyes where he stood looking at him with that odd look on his face again, those conflicting emotions mingling in his eyes. “He wouldn’t have needed the scarf,” he added, just to say something at all. “And I didn’t need the humiliation. So I kept it.”

“But...” Kiichi stared down at him in confusion. “You bought it. Are you gonna take it back to the store now?”

Should he? Kimishita hesitated. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about the fate of the scarf at all. Returning it might not be a bad idea, especially since it meant he would get his money back. Or he could keep it for himself, a new scarf to go with his new gloves... but it would be a scarf that would always remind him of Mizuki, a constant memory of his own failure knitted into fabric.

So should he return it, then? But that wouldn’t feel right either, somehow–

And then it hit him. An idea, a third option, leagues better than the other two.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the scarf and held it out towards Kiichi. “Here.”

Kiichi blinked, gaping bluntly at Kimishita. Then at the scarf. Then back at Kimishita. His hands extended halfway towards the scarf, hovering hesitantly in midair, his eyes growing wider and wider as the shy hint of a blush tinted his cheeks.

“For... me?”

Why did he look at him like that? Why was his voice so soft, so hesitant that Kimishita had to strain to hear him over the rush of the street nearby? A grown seventeen-year-old his size shouldn’t look like this. This insecure. This vulnerable. So vulnerable that every part of Kimishita’s body constricted with the urge to protect him.

“No shit,” he grumbled, averting his gaze and shoving the scarf into Kiichi’s half-extended hands. “Take it. In return for the gloves.”

“You don’t owe me shit for the gloves.”

“You don’t want it, then? Fine–”

“Wait!”

Snatching the scarf from Kimishita’s hands, Kiichi unrolled it, carefully running his hands over the thick knitted fabric as if he was holding a precious ballgown made of the finest silk. With a deepening blush on his cheeks he draped it around his neck, pulling it up and burying his nose inside it, giving a soft sigh.

It suited him, Kimishita thought. It suited him exceptionally well. The dark blue matched his jeans and brought out his eyes while forming a nice contrast with the burgundy red of his coat, and it was just the right length to wrap around his neck and face and not look short on his tall body. It suited him much better than it could possibly have suited Mizuki. It was almost like... like from the very beginning it had been meant to be worn by Kiichi instead.

Nonsense. What was he thinking? This was a lucky coincidence and nothing more.

Kiichi was still adjusting his scarf, his eyes shining with warmth and incredulous joy, snuggling up to it and smoothing it out as if he was trying to caress it. Kimishita didn’t get this guy. What was one scarf to him when he could have bought the entire store with his money? And this thing wasn’t even particularly well-made or expensive. It had to be cheaper than anything else he was wearing. What in the world was he so happy about?

And yet, as he looked at him like this, amazed and happy as a child, Kimishita couldn’t hide a smile himself. “Like it, huh?”

Kiichi blinked and froze as though he’d been caught doing something forbidden, blushing and disappearing even further behind the scarf. “It’s okay,” he grumbled. “Captain would’ve liked it.”

“You...” Now it was Kimishita’s turn to feel caught. “You think so?”

“Yup. But it’s my scarf now.” Kiichi gripped its ends a little tighter. “Mine.”

“Shut up.”

The busy street had quieted down. The shoppers had become fewer and further between, looking all the more hurried as they rushed to their destinations without so much as a glance to the side. Snowflakes had started falling from the sky again, and more and more people opened their umbrellas as they hurried by.

“So, uh,” Kiichi said after a while, “how’d the date go?”

Kimishita hesitated. How much should he tell him? There was no way he could bring up the reason why he had run out in a rush. That part was something he still didn’t understand himself, except for the firm knowledge that it was something he shouldn’t be feeling, something that was wrong, dead wrong, even if he still wasn’t sure why. For some reason he felt like he had betrayed Mizuki’s trust, a stupid, irrational feeling that was definitely too big for the occasion.

They started walking again, crossing the street and moving on into the shopping district, now empty and dimly lit, except for the streetlamps and Christmas lights everywhere. Staring straight ahead, Kimishita told Kiichi everything that was safe to tell about the date, everything from their conversation at the school gate to the skating lesson, the pair skating, the crash and the quick departure, pretending that he had fled the place because so many people had seen him and Mizuki in such a compromising position. Then he got around to Mizuki’s offer to kiss him, and his throat tightened painfully as his face burned with longing, regret and furious shame.

“So... you didn’t kiss?” Kiichi repeated slowly after he had finished and they had walked on in silence for a good minute. “Even though you wanted to?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, still not looking at him. “Of course not! I’m telling you, what I want is irrevelant–”

“You chickened out,” Kiichi said flatly. “He would’ve been okay with it, but you got scared like some pussy. If he offers you a thing, just fucking say yes!”

“I–” Was he stupid? “I didn’t get scared! Did you listen at all, you fucking idiot?” Kimishita spun around on his heel, grabbing Kiichi’s coat and yanking him down as he glared straight into his face. “Captain’s the type who'd do anything to help a friend, even when he doesn’t want to! Do you think I wanted to make him lose his first kiss to me just to do me a favor? I can’t ask that from him!”

“That’s his choice and not yours!”

“It’s my choice too! Now shut up.” Letting go of his coat, Kimishita spun back around and resumed walking. “Why are you getting so worked up over this bullshit? You’re the one who threw a fit over me and Captain when we got together.”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He didn’t follow Kimishita’s footsteps either. After a few moments Kimishita stopped and turned around, glaring back at him in irritation.

“What?” he asked. “Frozen to the ground?”

With a quiet, unintelligible noise, Kiichi hid his face behind the scarf and opened his arms.

Kimishita looked at him for a moment, then he sighed, his anger evaporating. “Pretend you’re him?”

Kiichi nodded.

“Fine.” Crossing the distance between them, Kimishita stepped into Kiichi’s space and rested his head against his chest, letting strong arms envelop him. “I’m cold anyway.”

Kiichi’s hands lingered on his back, lighter than air, as if he was hesitating to pull him against his chest again. After a moment they moved to his shoulders, his posture straightening as he pulled Kimishita away, just far enough to look at each other face to face.

“Do you...” He trailed off.

Kimishita waited. “What?”

“Do you... uh... fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Do you... stillwannachristmaskiss?”

Kimishita blinked at him, unsure if he had heard him right. Something inside him stumbled. What the...?

“What... did you say?”

Kiichi took a deep breath, his face glowing brighter than the lamps around them. “Christmas kiss,” he muttered into the scarf. “Still want one?”

No way. No way, no way, no way.

“No,” Kimishita managed to rasp out as soon as he found his voice. “Kiichi, y-you can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I literally just told you why, idiot! You think that I didn’t let Captain when you’re trying to do the same thing for the same reason? That’s–”

“–not the same.”

Kiichi’s hands had dropped to his side, his voice anxious and shaky. “I’m gonna do you a favor,” he said. “But you’re gonna do me one too. You imagine Captain, I imagine... my crush. It’s just pretend. It’s not gonna count.”

_No._

Every sane part of Kimishita was screaming at him to stop. This was a stupid idea. Stupid, ridiculous, terrible. No matter what Kiichi said, he couldn’t let him do that. And what about Mizuki? They were still dating after all, even if it was in name only–

_It’s just pretend._

But... but he couldn’t give his first kiss away to someone he wasn’t even dating! It should be with Mizuki... if Mizuki returned his feelings. But he didn’t, and Kimishita wouldn’t let him kiss him to do him a favor. With Kiichi it would be a favor on both sides, a pretense.

_It’s not gonna count._

That sounded like an excuse, Kimishita knew. But it was a good one. And he craved the affection, craved the illusion, the temporary feeling of being loved...

“All right, then.”

His voice came out quiet and raspy. His face was on fire. But he wouldn’t look back.

“Just once. This doesn’t count.”

Kiichi lifted his head and looked down at him with wide eyes, as if wondering if he was serious. Then he swallowed and nodded, his voice as raspy as Kimishita’s.

“Okay.”

His hands moved up to cup Kimishita’s face, the fabric of his gloves cold against his skin. His head leaned down. For a moment their faces were only inches from each other. Kimishita could see the street lights reflecting in his eyes.

Then Kiichi closed the distance and kissed him like he meant it.

Kimishita’s body moved on its own. Standing on his tip-toes, he reached up, his hands running through Kiichi’s hair, his body pressed up against Kiichi’s chest, his eyes closed as he took in the taste of Christmas cake, the feeling of Kiichi’s lips moving against his own, cold but soft and pillowy. Kiichi’s arms wrapped around the small of his back, pulling him in, holding him close as if he never wanted to let him go again.

It was exactly how he had always imagined kissing Kiichi to feel like. Soft. Passionate. A little clumsy but warm, even out here in the cold.

Closing his eyes, Kimishita summoned the image of Mizuki, Mizuki’s arms around his back, Mizuki’s lips against his. It flickered on and off at first, then he dived into it, falling into the illusion until they both moved apart again, gasping for breath.

The situation didn’t feel real.

Kiichi didn’t say anything, and Kimishita didn’t reply. They simply let go of each other and, without even a gesture, turned back and started on the way home.


	23. Doubt

It wasn’t real.

Kimishita wasn’t sure what had happened, but none of it felt real. It wasn’t real. It had to be a dream. It couldn’t be real.

What had he done? No... what in the world had  _they_  done? What had they been thinking?

Stumbling over his own feet, he slammed the door of his room shut behind him without bothering to turn on the light. His legs gave way beneath him, sending him sliding and tumbling to the ground, catching himself on his hands and knees, his eyes staring wildly into nowhere as his pulse raced through his entire body at a million miles a minute.

This wasn’t a dream, he knew it. No matter how much he wished it had been one. This couldn’t be a dream. Not with the way his heart was pounding, the way butterflies raced each other through his stomach and chest, the way his entire body was shaking, hot and cold with horror and a feeling he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to name or understand.

This was real. Everything just now had happened. And the reality of what that meant had only just caught up to him.

Pretend or not, he had just experienced his first kiss. And it had been fake, a lie from beginning to end... but he had still liked it. He had enjoyed it. So much that a part of him, a treacherous, pathetic, disgusting part, wanted to do it again.

Memories flashed through his head, mingling and intertwining. Mizuki, patting his shoulder and holding his hand and crashing down on top of him. Mizuki, smiling at him and offering to kiss him with that simple-minded, naïve look in his eyes, as if he didn’t fully understand the scope of what he was offering. Kiichi, pulling him into his arms and crushing him against his chest, nuzzling his hair and melting into his touch. Kiichi, showing up on his doorstep at a time of the morning when he shouldn’t even be awake, dragging him to the aquarium and the Skytree, making him relax and forget about the world for a day. Kiichi, waiting in front of his house in the snow and the freezing cold and hearing him out about his stupid worries. Kiichi, cupping his face and pressing their lips together, his breath warm against Kimishita’s skin, his movements desperate, passionate, as if this was an opportunity he would never get again in his life. The mental image of Mizuki, holding him close and kissing him, kissing him just the way Kiichi had... Mizuki... Kiichi... Mizuki...

How... had it come to this?

Kimishita brought up a hand, running it along his lips with anxious shame. His heart fluttered in his chest. Even though it was impossible, he could have sworn he could still feel Kiichi on his lips, the softness, the passion, the taste of cake and hot chocolate lingering in his mouth.

Kiichi’s taste. Kiichi’s feeling.

_You cheater._

Kimishita shook his head. No. No, he wasn’t cheating, he tried to tell himself. The kiss had been just pretend, it didn’t count. Kiichi had said so himself, and Kimishita had agreed. And even if it had counted, was it really cheating if the one he was dating wasn’t in love with him in the first place?

It should be fine, he told himself. He wasn’t betraying Mizuki. The kiss had been a logical conclusion of the pretend hugs, of all the times he and Kiichi had sought comfort in each other because they couldn’t find it in the people their hearts truly belonged to. Mizuki wouldn’t be heartbroken if he found out about this. Mizuki had never entrusted his heart to him in the first place. He had only let Kimishita offer his to him, and all Kimishita was trying to do was lighten his burden a little.

_Cheater. Liar. Backstabber._

No. No! He wasn’t cheating, he wasn’t a liar! He hadn’t cheated on Mizuki any more than actors did when they kissed their partners on screen. In his mind it had been Mizuki that he was kissing, anyway. Mizuki, leaning into him, pressing his lips against his own, pulling him in, holding him in his arms, gripping him tightly like a lifeline, letting their hot breaths mingle together in the cold winter air.

Except... it was Kiichi he had been kissing. It was Kiichi’s hair he had buried his hands in, Kiichi’s chest he had melted against, Kiichi’s lips moving against his. And no matter what he had ended up imagining, deep down he had never managed to shake off the truth. The hands, the lips, the taste, everything had been completely and uniquely Kiichi’s, and it was Kiichi’s kiss that had swept him off his feet, leaving him dazed and happy and disbelieving, Kiichi’s feeling that he couldn’t shake off, Kiichi’s and not Mizuki’s. The illusion had been feeble. He had lied to himself. He had never kissed Mizuki, not even in his head.

Kimishita’s throat felt tight. He felt like a criminal.

What was happening?

This was wrong. So wrong. All of this was wrong. He should never have gone to Kiichi’s place today. He should have texted or called him like a normal person, maybe given him the scarf at school tomorrow or forgotten about it entirely, he didn’t know. Or if he had to visit his place, he should have cut it there. Thanked him, given him the scarf and go home. He should never have agreed to go outside with Kiichi. He should never have told him about the date, the declined kiss. And he should never... never, never accepted his bullshit excuse to let him kiss him.

He wished he could travel back in time, slap his past self out of this mistake. He wished he could go and redo all of tonight, fix all his mistakes and get himself out of this disaster. Change something, anything, to stop himself from allowing all of this to happen again.

Except... if he had to do it all again, deep down he knew that he would still end up making all the exact same choices.

Kimishita punched the floor.  _Stop it!_  He should never have done all of this, why couldn’t he get all of that into his head? Just because it had felt good... just because... because...

Because... there was so much he wanted. There was so much he craved for, so much he couldn’t get, so much he wished he had the opportunity and courage to ask from Mizuki. But it wasn’t Mizuki he ended up getting all that from. The one who had been offering everything to him, everything he wished for, everything he needed desperately and didn’t dare to ask for, everything he had never dared to dream of getting, had always been Kiichi.

_Kiichi..._  Something hurt in his chest, so violently and acutely that he gasped for breath. This feeling... He didn’t want this. This surge of affection. This urge, this need, this craving for his presence, the overwhelming desire to melt into him and repeat the same thing they had done earlier–

No. It wasn’t what he thought. That was over. His heart belonged to Mizuki now, and he was loyal. He wouldn’t betray Mizuki. He wouldn’t cheat on him. Kiichi didn’t mean anything beyond strong friendship and misplaced excitement over the kiss. He had just distracted him again, as he was so prone to doing.

_Think of Captain,_  Kimishita told himself. He needed to stop thinking of Kiichi. If he just focused on Mizuki long enough, he would calm down. It was fine.

So he closed his eyes, trying to recall today’s date in as minute detail as he could manage. He recalled the voice calling out to him at the school gate. He recalled Mizuki coming to a stand in front of him, wearing his warmest fur-lined jacket and fluffy mittens and Inohara’s hand-knitted scarf, meeting his gaze with puzzled, friendly brown eyes. Mizuki, walking beside him, temptingly close yet frustratingly far away, talking about ice skating as the air around him seemed to sparkle with anticipation. Mizuki, slipping and catching himself on Kimishita’s shoulder. Mizuki, wobbling onto the ice and clinging to his arm for dear life, his eyes wide and shiny and his cheeks and lips pink, his body warm through the layers of clothing and his face close, so close. Mizuki, finally getting the hang of ice skating, sliding past him with proud, shiny, grateful eyes and the most excited look Kimishita had ever seen. Mizuki, holding his hand as they skated together, Mizuki, crash-landing on top of him...

_The memory of Kiichi doing the same, staring down at him as he crushed him beneath his weight, their faces inches apart, his eyes wide and his face glowing red with a furious blush..._

Kimishita gritted his teeth, pushing the thought out of his head.  _Focus_ , he told himself. Putting all his effort together, he summoned the image of Mizuki again, walking home with him, innocently offering him a kiss...

_Kiichi doing the same, his face half hidden behind the scarf, flushed and tense and visibly nervous..._

Kimishita’s nails dug into his balled-up fists, cutting painfully into the skin. He tried to focus, tried to think about Mizuki, the mental image of him cupping his face and pulling him into his arms, the street lights reflected in his warm, soulful brown eyes as he leaned in to press their lips together, kiss him like he had never been kissed before...

_Kiichi doing the same thing in reality... sweeping him off his feet..._

_Kiichi..._

Mizuki...

_Kiichi..._

It was no good. He couldn’t focus on Mizuki. Every time he managed to picture him in his head pictures of Kiichi would flash into the memory, each one more and more vivid, more and more alive, more and more real... almost as if... as if–

This distraction was getting too dangerous. He couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change. He had to stop, and quickly.

He had to stop letting Kiichi distract him. It was bad for him, and it was even worse for Mizuki. He might have been weak and treacherous so far, indulging in all of his stupid whims, but he still had a last bit of willpower left. He had to pull the brakes, now.

That only left one choice. He had to distance himself from Kiichi. No more venting to him, no more hugs, no more gifts. Definitely no more kisses. Nothing. He would forget about him and focus solely on Mizuki, just like the captain deserved.

Yes, that was the best plan. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it would definitely help him out of this mess. Mizuki was worth it. And Kiichi had to be feeling bad too, everyone would after essentially cheating on the person they loved. This distance didn’t have to last too long, anyway. Just enough to calm down and sort out his thoughts and remind himself that he belonged to Mizuki, Mizuki and not Kiichi.

It would be fine, really. Everything would be okay.

So why was he feeling like his heart was slowly being torn in half?

\---

The world was spinning. Everything was turning round and round and round in circles, unslowing, unstopping, whirling around in his head until he couldn’t tell which way was up or down anymore.

Ooshiba didn’t know how he had made it back here. He didn’t know what he had said to Kimishita when they parted at the door. He didn’t know if he had said anything at all. He didn’t know what he had told his parents and Mikoto when he had rushed past them on his way to the staircase, barely realizing where he was going, simply letting his feet carry him up to his room and through the door to flop down on the bed.

Every part of him was fluttering, jittering, tingling. His entire body was shaking, trembling like a dry leaf in the wind, ready to take off and fly through the air on the next breeze and crash-land on the ground as soon as the wind subsided. He couldn’t think anymore. He could barely breathe. The only thing on his mind was the kiss, replaying over and over and over in his head.

He had kissed Kimishita. It had been real. It had really, really happened, something that never hoped to imagine, something he hadn’t even dared to think of beyond his wildest dreams. But this hadn’t been a dream, he had to remind himself. He had kissed Kimishita. And Kimishita had let him. No, Kimishita had kissed him back. Just a few minutes ago Kimishita had been standing right in front of him, his body melting into Ooshiba’s arms, his hands in his hair and his lips moving in perfect harmony with his own, rough yet gentle, cold and chapped but so soft, so much softer than he had ever hoped or dreamed, his movements inexperienced and shy but awkward at the same time. Just a few minutes ago they had been close, so close that nothing in the world could have separated them, forgetting about everything in the world except each other, because nothing had mattered except that they were there, together, their lips pressed together and their arms holding each other close, body heat seeping through their thick winter coats. In that moment it hadn’t mattered that the kiss was a lie on Kimishita’s side and a cheap excuse on Ooshiba’s. As long as they were there together they had forgotten about everything, forgotten about troubles and heartbreaks and simply fallen into each other, treasuring this magical moment for as long as it lasted.

He wanted that moment back.

A knot tightened in Ooshiba’s chest, so abruptly and violently the echo of it shot through his entire body. He wanted to go back to that moment. He wanted to go back to that kiss. He wanted to do it all again, look into Kimishita’s eyes and see the Christmas lights reflected in the pine-green, cup his face, pull him in and lock their lips together and forget about the world. Forever. He wanted to stay that way forever, forget about everything that weighed him down, care about nothing but Kimishita standing there in his arms, strong and warm and so much  _there_. Kimishita’s absence was so acute it felt like a stab in the heart, cutting slowly through his body as the violent surge of longing and loneliness pulled at his chest and slowly tore him apart from the inside.

He missed him. He missed him. He missed him more than he had thought he could ever miss anyone in the world.

Why did he feel this way? Why towards Kimishita of all people? He could have fallen in love with anyone. He could be with the most beautiful girl right now, enjoying a Christmas date and looking into her glimmering, shining eyes, happy and loved. But even as he imagined the scene he recoiled. Impossible. No girl in the world– no, no human being in the world, no matter who, could ever make him feel the way Kimishita did. And if he could, he didn’t want them. He belonged with Kimishita. He didn’t want to fall in love with anyone other than Kimishita. Not now. Not ever.

_What do you do when one of your goldfish dies?_

He shook himself. That was stupid. Kimishita wasn’t a damn goldfish, he was a human being, a friend and companion. He was on a whole different level. No goldfish could ever have been there for him the way Kimishita had been. No goldfish could ever support him so unconditionally, lead his way when he was lost, have complete faith in him and confide in him and smile at him with that spark of pride in his eyes, as if he was something infinitely more amazing than his usual behavior ever let on. He wasn’t some pet to keep in an aquarium under the window, to watch whenever he felt lonely and replace when he was gone.

Maybe Kimishita would never return his feelings. No, not maybe. Probably not. He had lost his heart to Mizuki, and if anyone knew how hard it was to get over a loved one it had to be Ooshiba. He had long given up hope on ever being loved back, he realized... and still he couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go. Not as long as Kimishita needed him as a replacement, needed someone to comfort him and hug him and give him Christmas presents and... and kiss him. As long as he had those moments he could keep on pretending that his feelings weren’t one-sided, at least in those moments when Kimishita closed his eyes and melted into him and imagined Mizuki in his stead.

Maybe it might be smarter to part ways and get over him, he thought. Cut off all contact. Find someone new. It would hurt less, someday. Once his heart mended after the loss and he was ready for something new, it would hurt a lot less, so much less than whatever he was up for now. But before that it would hurt like crazy. For months, at least. No, years. Maybe forever. There was no second Kimishita around. He only existed once, and no one in the world could be better than him.

_You idiot,_  Kimishita’s voice said in his head.  _Did you forget what I told you? You’re only seventeen. Don’t go around saying some stupid crush is the love of your life when you’ve never truly been in love before in the first place!_

But... right now he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see himself falling for someone else. He couldn’t see himself spending his life with anyone other than Kimishita. Even if that changed later, it was how he felt right now, and that was the most important.

And it was okay, after all. Because he remembered Kimishita’s look. He remembered his face, flushed and breathless, his lips red and slightly parted as he broke away from the kiss, eyelashes fluttering open as he gazed up at Ooshiba with half-lidded eyes, love and passion burning in every inch of his face. Because Kimishita had looked at him like that he could keep going, stick around, hope against hope and play the replacement in the meantime. Because just for a few moments, Kimishita had looked up at him the way he looked at Mizuki.


	24. Regret

Kimishita took outstandingly long to get ready that morning. He rolled over and stared at the wall for five minutes after turning off his alarm, then he lingered in the bathroom, grimacing at the mirror and checking the shadows under his eyes, hoping they weren’t dark enough to reveal that he had barely slept last night. He stood in front of his tiny closet for what felt like an eternity, pushing his identical school uniform shirts back and forth as if trying to determine which one to wear. He ate his breakfast in tiny bites until it was almost cold, drank his coffee in sips long after it had cooled down enough to gulp down in one go like he usually did, and when he finally left fifteen minutes later than usual he didn’t hurry, knowing that he was still early enough to arrive on time.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to be at school early today. The earlier he arrived the higher the risk of having to talk to people before practice, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. He didn’t want to see anyone. Not Mizuki, and especially not Kiichi. The less he saw of these two today, the better.

_At least it’s just today,_  he told himself as he walked, trying to calm down his jittery nerves.  _Then New Year’s break starts, and I’ll be free. For now._

But not for long, of course. In the middle of the break, when everyone was still busy preparing for New Year’s Eve, they would all get together again to leave for nationals, staying all together at one hotel for almost two weeks if they managed to reach the finals. And fired up as he was, he was also faintly terrified. Because if they were all in one building... only a few footsteps away from each other at all times...

It would be fine, he reminded himself. After all, how much could happen if they were all constantly surrounded by the rest of the team? And it wasn’t like he was in any danger of rooming with either Mizuki or Kiichi. Mizuki was staying with Usui as always, and Kiichi with Satou. Kimishita had already made it abundantly clear that he’d rather take a gun to the head than share a room with Kiichi ever again, both because they’d end up trying to murder each other if they were stuck together twenty-four hours a day and because the idiot snored louder than the average tree-cutting saw. Well, the trying to kill each other part might not be true anymore, he thought. But it was still a very plausible excuse for staying out of his way as much as he possibly could.

Except... did he want to?

Kimishita banished the thought. If anything he should be daydreaming about rooming with Mizuki and envying Usui for being given such a luxury and not even realizing it. And still he wasn’t the slightest bit jealous, the slightest bit disappointed at the thought; he couldn’t even fully focus on it, his mind drifting over to Kiichi, staying with him day and night, talking till late in the evening and waking him up in the morning, huddling for warmth when they were cold and... maybe... repeating what they–

What was he thinking? What was he thinking? What was he thinking?

Kimishita tried to focus on the street around him, forcing all thoughts of Kiichi out of his head. Enough of that. He was just confused. The more desperate parts of his brain were confusing the excitement about the kiss for a crush, and with time and some distance it would all settle down. He’d just have to wait some days, maybe some weeks, and interact as little with Kiichi as he could.

His nails digging into his palms, he walked on, adamantly resisting the urge to pick up his pace, trying not to think of what could possibly lie ahead.

He arrived at practice at the last minute, getting changed just in time to line up on the still frozen but now snow-free pitch, the green of the grass looking much more yellow and muddy than he remembered. People were throwing him odd glances, he knew. It was so completely out of character for him to nearly show up late that it amazed him how he wasn’t sinking into the ground with shame himself.

“Oh, Kimishita-kun’s here too,” Kazama remarked from a few feet away, giving a cheery laugh. “What’s wrong, man? Did you ask for more sleep from Santa and snooze through the alarm?”

_I wish,_  Kimishita thought as he stifled a yawn. “Like hell I did!” he snapped out loud, shooting a murderous glare in Kazama’s direction. “I’ll kill you, brat!”

Kazama laughed even louder. “It’s okay, dude,” he said. “I almost overslept too. After searching all the stores in the city for a good present for Tsukushi I was super tired, ya know?”

Next to him Tsukamoto almost choked on air and turned around to gape up at him with eyes that were even wider than usual. “K-Kazama-kun? Um...”

“Oh.” Kazama blinked and then looked sheepish, putting on his goofiest smile. “Oops. I slipped up, huh?”

“S-So you really got me a... a present?” Tsukamoto stammered, turning pinker and pinker. “But that’s not necessary... just showing up would be enough, um...”

Kazama simply looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “But Tsukushi, I can’t just show up on your birthday without a present! Sayurin’s gonna get you one too, right? Come on, lemme do something nice for you!”

Tsukamoto blushed, smiled and said something Kimishita didn’t catch. Kazama grinned and ruffled his hair, his entire expression so adoring and unmistakably lovestruck Kimishita felt like he was intruding on a private moment between the two of them.

“Shut up!” he yelled at them, clicking his tongue. “You’re an embarrassment! Get a fucking room!”

Tsukamoto turned a vivid shade of red. Kazama made a face but let go, stuffing his hands into his pockets and putting on his best mock pout. “You’re just jealous, Kimishita-kun.”

A few people snickered. “Jealous?” Kurusu repeated in disbelief. “The only things that guy loves are hard work, winning and good grades–”

Kimishita turned to glare at him. “Ah?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it that way!”

The first-years continued goofing around, and Kimishita fell silent, focusing on watching them from a distance. From the other direction he could feel Mizuki and Kiichi’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at them to see all his fears and suspicions confirmed in their faces. Hard work, winning and good grades... part of him wished those really were the only things in the world he loved. Would make everything so much easier. But sadly that wasn’t the truth, even if the useless, lucky, big-mouthed first-years still thought so.

Not that he minded their nonsense. In fact, he was grateful for Kazama’s chatter and Kurusu’s unqualified remarks, because they gave him the perfect excuse to avoid looking at Kiichi or Mizuki for the time being. Annoying as they were, he wished they would keep babbling on for as long as they liked, preferably until practice was over and he could hurry and escape to the safety of his classroom.

Kazama had slung his arm around Tsukamoto again as if it was the most natural state for him to exist in, and they stood arm in arm as Coach Nakazawa explained today’s warmup routine. Kimishita sighed under his breath. Even though he knew Kazama had been joking when he had called him jealous, now he couldn’t help finding a little truth in that remark. Those two were lucky, simply being close like that. Loved. Free from all the worries, all the insecurities that came with knowing the other person didn’t return the feeling, simply able to enjoy every day, every minute together with the knowledge that the other wanted to be with them every bit as much as they did.

How long would it be until he could experience the same? Months? Years? Decades? Could he ever? He wasn’t Kazama, who simply went and told people he liked them and cheerfully charmed his way into their hearts with a smile. He wasn’t Tsukamoto either, who was warm and honest and had all his emotions written all over his face. For someone like him things simply weren’t that easy.

And then there was still his conflicting loyalty problem.

Nakazawa dismissed them to run laps, and Kimishita set off as far ahead of the others as he could. From the corner of his eye he thought he caught Kiichi’s eyes on him, and he ran even faster, staring numbly ahead as if he could outrun his problems that way. Someone shouted something after him, probably to save up his energy, but he didn’t listen. He was one of the fastest long-distance runners on the team. He could handle this. And even if he overexerted himself, what did it matter? Maybe he’d have to rest and wouldn’t be able to go to afternoon practice. Then he would only have to face everyone here until classes started... and after that the break was starting, and he’d be free for a precious handful of days.

What was he thinking? They were about to head to nationals. Now was the worst possible moment for missing practice, to say nothing of possibly injuring himself! The team needed him. Kurusu wasn’t ready to carry the team yet, not by a long way, and they would be up against opponents that couldn’t be underestimated. Whatever his personal feelings, he had to hang in there and make sure they won as many matches as possible.

So he swallowed, slowed down his speed, and let the pack catch up to him, careful to avoid any and all eye contact as he ran on alongside his teammates. This was fine, he told himself. As long as he limited all interactions with Mizuki and Kiichi to the bare professional minimum and focused on soccer, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

_But can you really do that after yesterday?_

Kimishita clicked his tongue, silencing the nagging voice in his head. Of course he could. He’d just have to turn off his emotions and focus on the rational, logical thinking he took so much pride in. Stop thinking about himself, ignore his personal emotions and do what was best for the team. That was all he needed to do.

Now he just needed his guilty conscience to start minding its own business.

\---

Kimishita was acting weird.

Ooshiba didn’t know what was going on, but something was clearly off. Kimishita wasn’t acting the way he usually did, and it became more and more obvious with every passing minute. He never arrived this late, for starters, so late that Ooshiba had found himself turning and looking towards the club room door every ten seconds to see if he had turned up yet, half dreading he might be sick and wouldn’t show up today at all, on the last day before nearly a whole week of not seeing each other and not playing together to boot. And when he had finally, finally arrived, half an eternity after he was usually there, he hadn’t looked at Ooshiba with so much as a single glance.

At first Ooshiba had thought he was just busy with other things, listening to Nakazawa’s instructions and yelling at the first-years. He had kept looking over at him, seeking his gaze, trying to meet it, eagerly, hopefully, over and over again. But no matter how much he gazed, no matter how much he hoped, Kimishita kept ignoring him entirely. Not a spare glance. Not a movement. Not a single indication that he had acknowledged Ooshiba was there at all.

Maybe he was just embarrassed, Ooshiba told himself. Maybe yesterday’s kiss had swept him off his feet so much that he was flustered now, unable to turn towards Ooshiba without instantly being reminded of their lips pressing together. Maybe he was self-conscious, thinking he had been no match for the naturally great kisser that Ooshiba was.

Yeah, right.

Not even his greedy ego accepted that as an explanation. Something had to be wrong. And as long as Kimishita was like this, he didn’t even have a way of finding out what it was.

Suppressing a huff of frustration, he quickened his pace, trying to catch up to the head of the pack where Kimishita was. Not that he’d be able to talk to him here and now. But there was still a certain sense of comfort to being near him, within arm’s reach, or at least close enough to observe his expressions and hear what he was saying. Just seeing him up close somehow made him feel a little better, loosening the cold, heavy knot of frustration and loneliness that had tied itself into his chest, growing only heavier every time they parted, every time Kimishita turned away from him, every time he had to tear his gaze away from Kimishita’s face.

_Look at me._

Little by little the hope was turning into a desperate plea, echoing through his head over and over as he stared at Kimishita’s back, as if hoping his thoughts would somehow silently get through to him if he focused on him hard enough.  _Look at me. Look at me. Why are you ignoring me, you, you–_

Ooshiba wished he could insult him in his head, throw every swear-word at him that he could possibly come up with, but even inside his own mind he was tongue-tied. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t call Kimishita names anymore, couldn’t yell at him and let out his anger like he always used to. Because he knew now. He knew that Kimishita was struggling, and insulting him, while temporarily providing relief, wouldn’t make things around them any better.

_Look at me. Please._

He had so looked forward to seeing Kimishita again today. He had been so excited to see his face, talk to him, observe his reaction to yesterday. He had hoped that maybe, with a little luck, he would get the chance to be close to him again, hold him in his arms maybe, because he wouldn’t hope on getting to kiss him again anytime soon. And now this. It was like he was invisible, and he didn’t even know what for.

Was it because of the kiss?

But why? Had it been that bad? Had kissing him felt so weird that Kimishita wouldn’t even look at him now because it had repulsed him so much? Or perhaps it had just felt wrong, kissing someone Kimishita didn’t even love in the first place? Ooshiba knew it would to him. He wouldn’t even agree to kiss someone he didn’t have feelings for in the first place, let alone if he had never kissed anyone before. Of course Kimishita would regret it. It wasn’t like Ooshiba had much going for him in the first place besides his looks and his soccer skill and his money that wasn’t actually his but his parents’. What appeal could kissing him have? Maybe he had been starved enough for affection to consider it yesterday, but it made so much sense that he would regret it afterwards.

But still, couldn’t he just tell him?

So maybe Kimishita didn’t want to. Maybe he was being stupid and considerate again, at the worst possible moment to boot, or maybe he was just uncomfortable. But it was still unfair! Did he think he was doing Ooshiba a favor by acting like this? Did he think that ignoring him completely wouldn’t hurt him?

One word– no, not even that. One glance. That was truly all he asked for.

\---

He knew those footsteps behind him. Of course he did. He knew them inside and out.

Kimishita quickened his pace, staring stubbornly ahead. The footsteps behind him kept up. Kimishita’s heart skipped a beat, and he ran even faster, trying to block out the familiar sound that threatened to take over his entire consciousness, pushing out all other noises until it was the only thing he could hear, the only thing filling his mind to the brim and beyond until something inside him started shaking like a volcano seconds before eruption. Every part of him was urging to turn around, urging to slow down and let Kiichi catch up and run next to him, look at him, speak at him, anything. The reins of his willpower were wearing thin. It was just one look, something whispered inside his mind. A conversation, maybe. It wasn’t like they would kiss again or anything, not out here in public. How bad could it be to risk one single look?

But if he looked now... just what would he see on Kiichi’s face? What would he see reflected in his eyes, those bright, intense eyes that always had every single emotion written all over them with a clarity words couldn’t even begin to express? Was he as ashamed as Kimishita was? Did he regret yesterday? Or would the emotion in his eyes be pity, sympathy, some form of friendship? Kindness? Understanding?

Whatever it was, it would hurt. And he didn’t know which one of these options would hurt more.

Stop. No, stop! That wasn’t the problem! The problem was that he was having these thoughts in the first place!

What did it matter how Kiichi would look at him? He shouldn’t care about the look in his eyes. He shouldn’t care... how Kiichi felt about him. They were teammates and friends. They trusted each other. That should be enough. Anything beyond that wasn’t allowed. Not as long as he was with Mizuki.

_But would Mizuki kiss him like that?_

Kimishita ran even faster, trying to block out the footsteps still following him. Of course Mizuki would, he told himself. If Kimishita asked him to, he would. If he had allowed him to yesterday, he would have done it. He had offered to. And Kimishita had declined. Why had he declined? Why had he sent him away, only to say yes to Kiichi mere hours later? Kiichi had convinced him, yes... he had told him it was just pretend, and Kimishita had believed it, that it was different from kissing Mizuki, who was supposed to be his boyfriend and kiss him for real. But now that felt like a lie, an excuse to cover up the truth, a truth that he wasn’t ready to face... a truth that he wanted to block out.

It couldn’t be that. It shouldn’t be that. He should kiss Mizuki sometime soon, and it would be his first proper kiss, and it would feel much better than yesterday. Of course it would. It was Mizuki he loved, so if Kiichi had managed to sweep him off his feet like that, kissing Mizuki would be even better. He just had to gather his courage and try it. Mizuki wouldn’t say no. And hadn’t he wanted to do him the favor from the beginning? He wanted to be asked to do all these things, if Kiichi really was right–

The footsteps were louder than ever, echoing in his head.

_Stop thinking of him_. Kimishita set his jaw, trying to block out the thought, the name. He had to think of something else. Someone else. Someone else... someone who could distract him from this whole mess...

He turned back onto the pitch, slowing down into a walk as he went to line up among the teammates who had finished their laps before him, steering directly towards Mizuki. “Captain!”

Mizuki interrupted his conversation with Haibara and Inohara to turn around, glancing at him with the usual friendly brown eyes. “Ah, Kimishita.”

Something inside Kimishita recoiled, the urge to avert his eyes and get away from him almost too strong to resist. He didn’t deserve this look. He didn’t deserve this friendliness. He was a cheater, a traitor who was about to use his own boyfriend to prove to himself that he was still faithful mere hours after kissing someone else and getting far too caught up in it. Would Mizuki still be this nice to him if he knew the truth? Not even he could. What he had done was unfair, unfair to everyone, but most of all to Mizuki, whose only mistakes had been accidentally making Kimishita fall for him and being much too nice and selfless for his own good.

But he had to do this. If he didn’t, his thoughts of Kiichi would catch up to him again and blow up inside his head, and then his betrayal would weigh even heavier for sure. This was undeserved, but it was necessary. Damage control.

Without putting much thought into what he was going to do or say next, he stood among the small group of third-years, standing as close to Mizuki as he could without awaking suspicion.  _Just say whatever. Bullshit something up. Doesn’t matter what._

“Do you... already have a partner for the pair exercises?”

He could feel his face heating up as he spoke. What was he going on about? He never did anything as bold as this. The others were staring at him, he didn’t have to see their faces to know... Why in the world had he said that? And before Nakazawa had even announced if they’d be doing any pair exercises today! They usually did in the morning, but asking him before the announcement was still stupid and ridiculous. And desperate. Way too desperate.

“I mean...” His face felt warmer and warmer by the second. “If we do them today.” He racked his brains for a logical excuse. “Before nationals I’d like to work on our teamplay again, if you're up for it.”

He swallowed hard. His mouth was dry. His heart was beating too fast. His head felt a little light. That was a plausible excuse, wasn’t it? And his flushed cheeks weren’t giving him away, were they? Were they?

Haibara gave a bright, cheery laugh, cutting through the silence that had weighed down so heavy on his shoulders. “That’s our Kimishita!” he shouted, giving him a clap on the shoulder. “Always thinking about your job, you old workaholic! Although I probably gotta do something too. Nitobe!” he called to the first-year who was just arriving flanked by Kurusu and Shiratori. “Let’s pair up next time!”

Nitobe gave a startled jump, looking confusedly back and forth between his upperclassmen and the other first-years as if they knew what was going on. Then Usui, who had been standing a few feet away, made off and reappeared behind him to explain the situation, and Nitobe hurriedly nodded before scrambling as far away from him as the pitch allowed.

Kimishita breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Crisis managed, at least for the time being. And just for a few minutes he hadn’t thought once about–

_Don’t start again now._

Swallowing again, he turned back to Mizuki, forcing himself to look into his eyes when all he wanted to do was hide. “How about it, Captain?”

For a second Mizuki looked confused about what he meant, then realization seemed to dawn on him, and his eyes went wide as he nodded. “Sure.”

Kimishita ventured a half-smile that he didn’t feel. Some part of him was happy, of course. Some distant part of him was relieved and proud, glad that this had gone over so well and he had managed to approach Mizuki like this in front of everyone and more or less casually ask him to do something together, even if it was just a simple pair exercise that might not even happen today. But the rest of him was an anxious, ashamed, insecure mess. His head was resonating with the feeling that he wasn’t playing fair, that he had just used Mizuki as a distraction, a way to stop thinking about Kiichi while proving to himself that he was still in love with him, no matter what else the voice of his heart was trying to whisper in his ear. This success was undeserved, it seemed. Mizuki shouldn’t have agreed to this. Mizuki should have brushed him off and teamed up with someone who deserved him much more, who didn’t double-cross him and use him as a tool to make himself feel better. Mizuki had no idea what was going on, of course. But somehow that just made everything even worse.

He didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want to talk to him. And yet here he was, standing next to him and talking to him and smiling at him just to pretend to be fine and lie to himself just the way he was lying to everyone else. But who cared? As long as yesterday’s events remained a secret, the only one he was hurting with this was himself. He wasn’t causing anyone pain who didn’t deserve to suffer. As long as it was only him, he could deal with it all. Somehow.

Still, he’d be so glad when today was over and he could finally go home for a precious few days at home by himself.

\---

“Do you already have a partner for the pair exercises?”

Ooshiba stopped short where he stood. His eyes went wide, his entire body frozen in place as Kimishita’s words rang in his ears, directed not at him but at Mizuki.

His mind went blank. He barely registered Haibara’s lighthearted comment and the first-years’ hijinks, and he didn’t notice the knowing glance Usui threw his way as Nitobe scurried away from him in a rush. The only thing catching in his brain again was Mizuki’s simple, kind-hearted response: “Sure.”

Kimishita smiled, and something in Ooshiba shattered. The bit of joy in his heart, the tiny spark of hope that had built up in his chest since yesterday, cracked and burst into pieces. His entire body felt numb as he stared the two of them, looking more like a couple than they ever had since they had got together, more equal and balanced and happy. He should be happy for Kimishita, he knew. He was the one who had always encouraged him, who had told him to approach Mizuki more and reach out more and not be so afraid of imposing or coming across as desperate. And now he had finally managed to pull it off and looked so much better for it already. Maybe with time they’d become an actual happy couple, and...

...and Kimishita wouldn’t need him anymore.

The thought sank slowly into his mind like a heavy rock sank into a swamp, deeper and deeper until it hit rock bottom. Kimishita had hated the kiss. Kimishita didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. Kimishita had chosen Mizuki, and he had chosen him in a way that meant he wouldn’t need a replacement anymore. He didn’t want a replacement. He didn’t want  _Ooshiba_ , he wanted  _Mizuki_ , and all of today had been making that perfectly clear.

He should have known. He should have expected this. Why had he ever hoped anything else? He knew how Kimishita was. He knew him better than anyone. He should never have offered that kiss, no matter how much he had wanted it, no matter how much Kimishita had looked like he needed one. He had screwed up. He had screwed up what little they had, what little he had slowly built up with care and patience and endless self-restraint, and left them off with less than they ever had before.

And yet... if he traveled in time, he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself from doing the same thing again. Because despite everything he still wouldn’t want to miss this memory. He wouldn’t give it up. He would always treasure it. No matter what happened.

Perhaps he could still fix this somehow, he thought feebly. As soon as he got the chance, he would snatch Kimishita and try to talk this out to him. Apologize, promise to never kiss him again, or whatever he wanted. Some way to stay friends, at least. Even if he couldn’t keep comforting him like he used to.

But no matter what he did, no matter what he tried, Kimishita didn’t even look at him. He kept close to Mizuki for all of practice, still talking to him when they returned to the club room, and when Ooshiba resolved to snatch him and talk to him as soon as they got outside and went to class, he hurriedly changed back into his school uniform only to realize that Kimishita had long gone back ahead of him.


	25. Conflicted

Kimishita closed his eyes and sighed, trying to block out the swirling feelings spinning round and round and round in his head. He tried not to think of anything, tried to shut down his mind as he rummaged blindly through his bag, mindlessly pulling out his textbook, pencil and notebook out of his bag and slumping back in his chair, listening to his classmates walking into the classroom one by one, greeting each other and crowding together in groups to exchange whatever gossip they thought they needed to share with the world. Kimishita tried to listen. A few desks away one of the girls was excitedly telling her friends about the date her boyfriend had taken her yesterday, complete with a fancy restaurant and an expensive necklace he had given her, and then a kiss as they parted–

He tuned her out, ignoring the cold, twisting feeling in his chest. Not far behind him a group of boys was chattering away, lighthearted and cheerful, a welcome distraction. One of them complained about not getting a Christmas date when all of his friends had. Another one laughed and bragged about having met with all of his multiple girlfriends without any of them noticing and complained about having to buy so many gifts, even if he was happy about getting so many in return–

Kimishita covered his ears, staring at his notes without being able to comprehend a single word.

It didn’t hurt, he told himself. He didn’t miss Kiichi. He didn’t want to see him again, look at him, talk to him after ignoring him all morning, a morning that felt like a thousand years. He didn’t miss his touch, his hugs, the look on his face when he offered Kimishita to move in, forget the world and pretend he was Mizuki for a moment. It was fine. He was fine. And Kiichi was fine, too. More than fine, probably. He might be confused now, but it would be all right. After all, wasn’t Kimishita actually doing him a favor with this? He would no longer have to trouble himself with being the replacement goldfish. He would no longer have to do anything he should only be doing with the person he loved.

But Kiichi needed a replacement goldfish too, a voice in his head whispered. And Kiichi wanted to help him. Had he not insisted so many times? Had he not offered Kimishita to listen to him when he needed to vent, taken him to the aquarium and the Skytree to get his mind off things, comforted him over and over? If Kiichi wanted to help...

If Kiichi wanted to help, what difference did it make? He couldn’t help right now. Anything he could do would make Kimishita worse, more conflicted. No, before he could let Kiichi anywhere near him again he had to put distance between them, kill those feelings at their root and make sure they never came back again as long as he lived.

Shaking the thought of Kiichi out of his head, he pulled out his phone and composed a message.

_Let’s have lunch somewhere quiet today._

He had been this close to saying  _private_. But maybe that would have sounded a little too bold after all.

\---

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

Kimishita looked from side to side, taking in the empty soccer pitch to make sure it was definitely completely deserted, without anyone trying to sneak around the yellowing grass the same way they just had, sitting down as far away from the rest of the school as they could, sheltered by a few trees that had shed their leaves for the winter. It was strange, coming here outside of practice time, not wearing the Seiseki jersey on his back or his beloved cleats on his feet, sitting down instead of running to warm up. Somehow it felt forbidden, as if the image of the two of them sitting here peacefully with their lunch was bound to alert someone who shouted at them and dragged them into the school to put them in detention and humiliate them in front of everyone. Or perhaps... perhaps it was a little shameful to be hiding together like this as a couple, as if they were planning to do unspeakable things when all they wanted was to eat their lunch uninterrupted by anyone who could walk in on them elsewhere.

“It’s okay,” Mizuki said simply, already unpacking his lunch with a hungry growl of his stomach. “I used to go here in the breaks a lot to practice. In my first year.”

Kimishita’s eyebrow twitched; he could just imagine freshman Mizuki sneaking into the clubroom without permission, snatching a ball and training out here by himself while everyone else was eating lunch. “Are you  _sure_  that was allowed?”

“Yes.” Mizuki gave a thumbs-up. “I got yelled at by some teacher once, but Coach stepped in and now I have permission. It’s fine.”

“I don’t think that counts as ‘it was allowed,’“ Kimishita muttered with a sigh, his eyes anxiously flitting all over the place again in search of a teacher who could see and report them. “But if you say so...”

Shaking off the anxious feeling in his gut, he unwrapped his own lunch, precariously resting it on his knees as he clapped his hands together and bowed his head. “Thanks for the food.”

Next to him Mizuki did the same, greedily grabbing his chopsticks and shoveling a huge load of rice into his mouth, biting down and chewing with delight. Kimishita watched him from the side as he took a bite himself. He was still adorable, he thought with a wave of relief. As he sat there with crumbs on his face and his eyes sparkling and his cheeks stuffed like a hamster, Kimishita couldn’t resist the rush of affection washing warmly over his heart, bringing a fond smile to his face as he watched the captain chew down his giant mouthful, swallow and take the next giant bite like this was the dearest, prettiest image he had ever seen in his life.

This feeling was right, he thought. It might hurt him in the long run, but it belonged here. It was what he should be feeling, welcome, familiar and relieving.

Mizuki gulped down the next bite and reached down to help himself to more when his eyes caught Kimishita’s, and he paused, his eyes wide and questioning as he turned and tilted his head sideways. “Does your lunch taste bad?”

Kimishita blinked, snapping out of his trance to stare at his own food in surprise. “What?”

“You’re not eating.” Mizuki gestured to the chopsticks held loosely in Kimishita’s hand. “Do you not like it? You can have some of mine if you–”

“N-No!” Kimishita burst out as Mizuki already reached into his own lunch box to pick up some fried chicken and place it on top of Kimishita’s food. “My own food is fine!”

“Really? But you stopped eating...”

“I told you, I’m fine!” Kimishita’s face heated up in embarrassment, but for once he wasn’t ashamed of himself for blushing like an idiot in front of Mizuki. “I just got... a little distracted is all.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“But,” Mizuki said at last, “you can still have that chicken. I heard that couples exchange lunches all the time.”

Kimishita turned progressively redder, staring down at the bit of fried chicken as he struggled to keep his expression from going off the rails. How could Mizuki just shamelessly say something like that? Not that he disliked it, of course. If anything this kind of shamelessness was welcome to him now, a constant reminder of where his feelings still lay every time his face flushed red with embarrassment and butterflies stirred and took flight in his stomach. He wanted to feel it more, that reassuring nervousness, that fluttery, shaky sensation that Mizuki still sent shooting through his body with everything he did. He had never believed it was possible, but by now he had grown to like it.

“Fine,” he grumbled, pushing the chicken aside with his chopsticks to pick up a small sweet egg roll. “But I’m giving you something in return. Here.”

Mizuki blinked in surprise, then he gave a brief nod, leaned down, and bit the egg directly off the chopsticks.

It took all of Kimishita’s courage not to scream or drop the chopsticks like they were on fire. “Wha– Wha– Wha–” he spluttered. “I was about to put it down on your lunch, you didn’t need to–”

Mizuki straightened up and swallowed the egg roll. “Sorry.”

“Forget it!” Kimishita placed the chopsticks down on his lunch, trying to hide his shaking hands as he banished all thoughts of indirect kisses and all the other shameful things his brain was trying to bring up. “I mean...” What was he doing? What was he talking about? He had no idea anymore. “It’s... not like I mind.”

“Really? Then here.” And without warning Mizuki reached into Kimishita’s lunch with his own chopsticks, picking up the bit of fried chicken and holding it in front of Kimishita’s mouth. “Say aaah.”

One of these days. One of these days this guy would give him a heart attack.

Kimishita took a deep breath, ignoring the hot feeling in his face, ignoring every part of him that recoiled in shame at his selfishness for accepting Mizuki’s offer when the captain was only doing all this for his sake and didn’t actually want it. He needed this right now. He needed to spend as much time with Mizuki as he could, absorb every second, take every chance, until it was only Mizuki his chest fluttered for again and he felt no need or desire to do all these things with Kiichi. This was all to stay loyal. It was necessary.

Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth and plucked the chicken from Mizuki’s chopsticks, biting down and chewing with a soft crunch.

It was good. It was delicious. Of course it was. Even the cheapest, most garbage-quality convenience store meat tasted amazing to him, and this chicken was just the right amount of crispy and juicy while the breading coating it was soft and fluffy and still a little warm. With a tiny sigh of delight he savored every bit of the mouthful, swallowed and licked his lips for the remains. Had deep-fried chicken always tasted this good to him? This perfect, addicting even? Or maybe it was Mizuki’s influence, the fact that he had handed it to him, fed it to him on his own chopsticks? He hoped it was the latter, at least a little bit.

Mizuki was still looking at him when he opened his eyes, observing him with curiosity drawn all over his features. “How was it?”

“Good,” Kimishita said before he could stop himself. “It’s... delicious.”

“Want another piece?”

Kimishita jolted upright, ready to snap at him for giving away all his food, then the image of Kiichi doing the same flashed through his head, and he stopped short on the spot. If he didn’t do this here, he would regret it. He would crave it and need a replacement, and then...

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he muttered, awkwardly staring at his own lunch getting cold on his knees. “But only if you’ll have some of mine in return.”

Mizuki nodded and held out another bit of chicken, and Kimishita fed him more of his own lunch in exchange until they had both eaten half of each other’s food from the other’s chopsticks. Somehow it felt odd. Before today Kimishita had always found feeding each other like this one of the cringiest couple things in existence, getting irritated and embarrassed at the sole thought of acting this insufferably lovey-dovey. But now that they were actually sitting here, perched on the roots of this gnarled old tree, gazing out onto the deserted soccer pitch, munching on food and holding out bits for the other to try, it didn’t feel all that embarrassing after all. If anything it almost felt natural, like it was yet another extension of the bond they had, sharing things they liked because they wanted the other to taste what they tasted and share the joy of their favorite food.

Kimishita wasn’t sure, but he supposed that was a good thing. It meant that he was happy with Mizuki, and Mizuki was happy with him too, at least to some degree, and at the moment that was all he could possibly ask for. He wasn’t thinking of anything else as they sat here. He wasn’t thinking of anyone else, either. If he just went on like this for a few days, or a few weeks, or however long it took, maybe he’d be able to talk to them both normally soon, Mizuki and Kiichi alike.

He hoped that day would arrive soon. As soon as possible. He couldn’t wait to not have to avoid anyone anymore, he couldn’t wait to be able to look at Kiichi again, talk to him–

And this was exactly why he was doing all this in the first place. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t talk to Kiichi as long as he kept on hoping to see him again, missing him and counting down the days until they could go back to normal. Even thinking of talking to him again was off limits until he had made completely sure that he thought of Kiichi as nothing more than a good friend.

_Think of Captain,_  he told himself, stubbornly tearing his thoughts away from Kiichi once more, cursing his brain for constantly drifting off to him like this when the object of his affections was sitting right in front of him.  _Captain, not Kiichi. Get Kiichi out of your head._

With a stab of pain as if he was physically tearing himself away from something that should be a part of him he turned back, watching Mizuki close the lid on his empty lunch box and wrap it up. Kimishita did the same without taking his eyes off the captain, forcing his thoughts to stay on him even as they stubbornly tried to stray back off. Guilt enveloped him from behind. Why was this so hard all of a sudden? It had been so easy just a few minutes ago!

Kimishita inched closer, his eyes still focusing on Mizuki’s face. There was still rice on his face, he realized. How easy it would be to wipe it off for him, in much the same way couples did–

And he could, he realized. No one was stopping him except for himself. Mizuki would be fine with it. Nobody was keeping him from reaching over and touching the captain’s face if he wanted to.

Swallowing the twang of nervousness shooting through his body, Kimishita leaned closer, extending his hand halfway to Mizuki’s cheek. “Hold still.”

Mizuki blinked in surprise, but he didn’t move, his eyes flitting back and forth between Kimishita’s face and his half-extended hand.

It was all the encouragement he needed. With a deep breath Kimishita reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing against the warm, silky smooth skin, gently picking the grains of rice off Mizuki’s face. There. It wasn’t all that hard. He could do it if he really wanted to.

Mizuki was still blinking at his hand. Kimishita’s fingers lingered. He should probably pull back now, he thought, it was probably an intrusion of personal space... but Mizuki was still not moving, and his skin under his fingers felt so nice, so soft and warm that he couldn’t help but linger, enjoy the feeling against his hand and the tingly, nervous, fluttery sensation that was pulsing from his fingertips through his arm and into his entire body.

And then he realized it. He looked at Mizuki’s face and realized just how close they were right now, sitting barely a foot apart under this tree that shielded them from any stray views, all alone where no one else would find them, their faces so close that he could see his own expression reflected in Mizuki’s eyes.

An idea crossed his mind. An idea that, less than twenty-four hours ago, he would have dismissed as selfish. And he hated himself for changing his mind so quickly, hated how fickle and indecisive it made him seem, but the temptation was stronger, the desire to paint over the memory of yesterday, cover up his excitement over a replacement with the real deal. Mizuki was here, right in front of him. His fingers were still touching the captain’s face. They had just shared a moment, no, they were still sharing it, sitting here together with their gazes locked and their breaths forming little clouds that mingled and merged in the cold winter air. And they were alone, completely alone. Nobody would see them here.

“Say, Captain,” Kimishita whispered, and his voice came out hoarse, raspy. “About... what you offered yesterday... I know I said you shouldn’t do it if it’s not with someone you love... but...”

Mizuki continued looking at him in that unreadable way of his, and he swallowed. More than half of him wanted to trail off, break eye contact and excuse himself to run off to the next bathroom and splash cold water in his face until he came to his senses. But he kept going, listening to his own voice as if it was someone else talking through him.

“But... if you don’t mind, please let me impose on you this one time.”

Mizuki’s eyes went wide. For a brief moment Kimishita thought he’d decline, but then something warm and slightly proud crossed his face, and he nodded. “Okay.”

_Okay._

Kimishita took a deep breath, trying to keep his hand from shaking as he ran it from Mizuki’s cheek along his jaw to cup his face, leaning closer and closer until he could feel Mizuki’s breath tickling his lips, warm and inviting... just a little closer, and he would close the distance, finally cross over that one remaining inch and do what he had wanted to do for so long and never dared.

For a split second the image of Kiichi flashed through his mind, leaning closer and closer until their lips met halfway, easily and naturally, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. How he envied him now. He wished he could have as much confidence with this as Kiichi did, simply leaning down and kissing him without any of this panic, this awkward anxiousness that was threatening to take hold of his body and mind, pushing him away from Mizuki’s lips.

If only Mizuki could be more like Kiichi in that way, he thought. If only Mizuki could lean closer to him too... meet him halfway...

_Enough of Kiichi._

With a stubborn rush of spite and determination, Kimishita shook off his fears, closed his eyes and kissed Mizuki.

It was only a brief kiss. It was soft and shy and hesitant, barely more than a quick brushing of lips against lips, warm, gentle and inexperienced. As soon as it had begun it was over already, and Kimishita pulled back, his lips tingling and his face on fire and his entire body shaking for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold.

Too soon. Too soon. He wanted more. And yet... he felt blessed. Incredibly, unimaginably blessed. He couldn’t believe this was real. He couldn’t believe this had actually happened. He had kissed Mizuki. And just for a moment, a brief heartbeat that seemed quicker than a second, Mizuki had kissed him back.

He was so glad. He was so happy, so grateful. Every part of him was floating on cloud nine, butterflies fluttering throughout his body until it seemed like every part of him was made of nothing but a million butterflies, all taking flight and rising into the air at once.

“Kimishita?”

It took him a few moments to register the voice, the question directed at him. Then he blinked, and the army of butterflies slowly dissolved into a flustered, giddy feeling as he lifted his head and forced himself to look back at Mizuki’s face, keeping his gaze firmly on his eyes and avoiding the lips that he had just kissed a few seconds ago.

“Are you okay?” Mizuki asked, his expression somewhere between confusion and genuine concern. “Was it all right? The ki–”

“It was fine!” Kimishita burst out before he could finish the word. “Y-Yes, it was... good,” he muttered more quietly, glaring down at the ground and clicking his tongue, irritated at himself. “Thank you.”

\---

Kimishita went back to class a flustered mess, barely able to focus on his studies as the afternoon went on.

He had kissed Mizuki. Mizuki had kissed him back. He still couldn’t believe it. He still couldn’t believe this lunch break had been real, not a feverish dream conjured up by his lovesick mind as he lay in his room at three in the morning, unable to sleep. But the feeling of warm lips against his didn’t feel like a dream, still echoing on his skin half an eternity after the moment was over. It had been such a short moment. Such a small, awkward kiss. Their lips had parted almost as soon as they met, and yet here he was, still giddy and flustered and shaking all over.

So this was the difference, he thought. The difference between mistaken feelings and actually being in love. Kiichi had kissed him so passionately that he had naturally been left flustered afterwards. Mizuki had done nothing except gently meet his lips for a moment, and Kimishita was left in a mess, overjoyed and incredulous and shaken all at the same time. Mizuki was where his feelings lay, even after the confusing detour that had been yesterday evening. He was sure of that now. He knew it.

With that knowledge in the back of his head he went back to practice that day, nervous at the thought of seeing Mizuki again but much calmer when it came to Kiichi. It was okay, it should be. He had worked out these temporary feelings and sorted them out of his system. There was no more conflicting loyalty here. They could interact more or less normally again, hopefully.

_He couldn’t wait._

Kimishita brushed off that thought. It didn’t mean anything except that he was glad to be getting his friend back. Morning practice hadn’t been the same without talking to Kiichi. Even if it would have resulted in yelling at each other again and threatening to throw punches, he had missed it.

Without much of a thought he walked up to the club room again, making his way over the school grounds with Suzuki in companionable silence. Somewhere along the way other footsteps joined them, and Suzuki lingered back to talk to Satou as Kimishita went on by himself until he reached the club room door and his fingers closed on the door handle just as a second, larger hand did the same, fingers brushing against fingers.

Kimishita turned around and found himself face to face with Kiichi.

For a second neither of them said a word. Then Kiichi stepped back and stared at the ground, motioning for Kimishita to go ahead. Kimishita half opened his mouth to say something even though he didn’t know what, then he sighed, opened the door and stepped into the room, throwing his bag on the bench and starting to get changed while trying to ignore the strange feeling constricting in his chest.

He could still feel Kiichi’s hand where it had brushed against his. It had been warm and surprisingly soft, as if he was doing something to keep his skin smooth even in this freezing cold, the touch so light it might as well have been a gust of wind brushing over his fingers. And he was still wearing the scarf Kimishita had given him yesterday. The realization brought a warm feeling to his chest, a rush of affection he couldn’t explain, couldn’t understand...

What was this feeling? Why was he thinking all that? He had thought he was over it! He should be thinking of Mizuki, Mizuki... think of today’s lunch break, feeding each other bits of their lunches, the kiss...

Kimishita tried to picture it, but the fluttery feeling faded all too quickly. The memory of Mizuki’s lips brushing against his own shifted into a stronger, more passionate sensation, two bodies in perfect sync, melted together as if this was the way they ought to be, and each other’s arms was where they belonged...

Kiichi, he thought, Kiichi wouldn’t have left it at this momentary brush of lips. Kiichi would have pulled him in and swept him off his feet again, cupping his face like it was the most precious thing in the world, holding him in his arms like he never wanted to let go. Kiichi would have let this moment last longer, so long that he forgot about time, forgot about the entire world and thought only of the warm breath against his skin, the gentle touches that were so full of passion and genuine emotion, the sweetness of cake and hot chocolate caressing his lips. Kiichi wouldn’t have asked if the kiss had been okay afterwards. Because Kiichi would know. Kiichi knew him.

No, what was he thinking?  _Stop it, stop it–_

He had been wrong. He wasn’t over this yet. He needed time. He needed space. When he had been with Mizuki earlier everything had been all right, and he had forgotten about yesterday, but it hadn’t been enough to calm him down completely. He needed to distance himself more, or his loyalty would crumble further, sending him down a spiral he never wanted to get into again.

And so he ignored Kiichi once more. He didn’t look at him. He didn’t speak to him. But sometimes he caught him from the corner of his eye, and even in those brief moments he didn’t miss how hurt Kiichi looked, how frustrated and disappointed and completely helpless.

He wished he could do something. He wished he could help him. But there was no way. Not as long as he was like this. He knew Kiichi needed him too, needed a replacement for whoever he was in love with, but as long as he didn’t know how to handle his feelings he wouldn’t be of much use. After all, it would only make things awkward between them if he went and caught feelings again.

Practice seemed to take forever. For ages and ages Kimishita pretended not to notice Kiichi while staring desperately at Mizuki, only to anxiously glance away whenever the captain caught him. And then practice was finally over, and he hurried into the club room and changed as quickly as he could, eager to finally get out of here and escape for a handful of days.

He was free. He was free–

A hand closed around his wrist and silently pulled him around the corner.

Kimishita went rigid. He knew who this hand belonged to, he knew without looking. And he wanted to run. He wanted to turn and sprint out of here, get away and never look back until he reached his house, the safety of his room. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this conversation, whatever it would be.

But he stayed.

“What do you want?” he asked, gazing down at his own shoes, trying to pretend not to see Kiichi standing in front of him. “Spill, I don’t have all day.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kiichi didn’t yell. He didn’t even shout. His voice was quiet, painfully quiet, filled to the brim with shaky, hurt bitterness.

Kimishita couldn’t help it. He glanced up into Kiichi’s face.

Bright eyes met his own, wide and confused and pleading and quietly furious at the same time, eyebrows knitted together in pain, teeth clenched and jaw set as if he was enduring horrible torment. Something shot through Kimishita’s heart, a stab of pain, guilt and regret that this expression was his fault, that he had hurt Kiichi’s feelings with his behavior. And yet, what should he have done? How should he have gone about this in a way that didn’t cause any more harm than he already had?

“Nothing is wrong with me,” he replied, fully knowing that wasn’t true. “What are you talking about?”

Kiichi took a breath, and for a second he looked like he was about to yell. Then he gave a huff and kicked his foot hard against the ground, sending a few pebbles rolling over the concrete. “Don’t lie!” he said in a tight voice. “Did I piss you off yesterday? If I did something you hated, just grow some balls and tell me–”

“Shut up!”

Kimishita clenched his fists. His voice sounded strange even in his own ears, desperate, distorted. His throat felt tight. His chest hurt. Every part of him felt like a ticking time bomb, seconds away from explosion and with nowhere to blow up. He wanted to channel these feelings into something, but there was nothing, nothing he could do to push them all out of his system.

He regretted this. He regretted everything. He didn’t want to see Kiichi this hurt. He wanted to comfort him and tell him it wasn’t his fault and he just needed some time alone to think and figure things out. But... that would only make things worse. No matter what he did, he would end up hurting Kiichi and causing him trouble, one way or another.

Then... it was probably better to pull out the splinter quickly. Because even if it hurt like crazy now, it would get better soon.

“You... did something I hated,” Kimishita said, staring at the ground, hating himself for every word. “It was the kiss, idiot!”

Kiichi gave a pained hiss, then he reached out to grab Kimishita’s shirt, only to stop halfway and pull back his hand. “You seemed like you liked it yesterday!”

_I’m so sorry. Kiichi, I’m so sorry._

Kimishita straightened his head, forcing himself to look directly at Kiichi’s face as he shouted the words that he knew would shatter them both for good.

“I fooled you!” he yelled, trying not to see the way Kiichi flinched as though he’d been slapped. “It was disgusting! So don’t even think of trying to do this with me again, got it? Ever!”

Kiichi stared at him in complete incomprehension. And before he could reply Kimishita clicked his tongue, turned on his heel, and marched away from the school as fast as he could.


	26. Apart

The world stood still.

Ooshiba stood frozen on the spot, unmoving, unblinking, his breathing and heartbeat stopping for the moment. He didn’t hear a sound. He didn’t feel a thing. He didn’t see anything except Kimishita’s continuously retreating back, hurrying away from him and disappearing around a corner to leave him all alone in the world.

_I fooled you!_

Kimishita’s voice reverberated through his head, echoing through the numb emptiness like a lone shout in a deserted hallway.

_It was disgusting!_

Little by little the words ringing through his numb mind started to make sense. His heart started to beat again. His lungs sucked in a breath of air, biting cold and painful as if he had inhaled a million needles, but he barely felt it. The voice in his head grew louder and louder, the meaning of every single syllable, every single word seeping into his consciousness like a constant, unstoppable trickle that grew stronger and stronger with every passing second.

_So don’t even think of trying to do this with me again, got it? Ever!_

Something inside him snapped and ripped into pieces.

The sense of numbness cracked and shattered. The full meaning of the words hit him in the face with the power of a legion. And suddenly he felt. He felt. He felt everything.

Ooshiba gasped and doubled over. The air cut into his lungs. His insides were in knots. His heart was slowly being torn apart in his chest, pulled and twisted and ripped into pieces, bleeding from a thousand gashes that grew deeper and deeper, slicing violently into the treasured, well-protected core of his being.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt him before. It hurt so much that he lost balance and fell to his knees, gasping for air and fearing he might die from the force that was tearing him apart from the inside. He wanted to shout, wanted to scream and cry out in pain, but when he opened his mouth all that game out was a choked, mangled gasp, his throat locked up by a lump that he could neither cough out nor swallow, his eyes burning but painfully dry no matter how much he wished he could burst into tears.

What should he do? What should he do? It hurt him. He didn’t want this. He wanted to get it out, wanted to scream and cry until nothing was left inside of him and nothing could hurt him anymore, but no sound came out. All he could do was kneel here in the snow, his bare hands freezing to the icy ground, breathless and shaking all over as the violent feelings raged inside him, unchecked and unstoppable.

He had messed it up. He had ruined it. It was over.

Kimishita’s voice still resounded in his head, spinning round and round until he couldn’t tell what it was saying anymore. It didn’t matter. He already knew. He remembered every single one of Kimishita’s words, remembered the way he had avoided to even look at him, the furious glare on his face when he finally had, the coldness in his voice as he spoke those words that had taken Ooshiba’s heart and shattered it in their hands. He had ruined it. He had gone too far, and now he had crushed every tiny chance he’d ever thought he had.

Why? Why hadn’t he just been happy with being Kimishita’s friend? Comforting and cuddling him had been fine. They had been close, closer than ever. Why hadn’t he just been happy with that, like he thought he had? He should never have thought of kissing him. He should have resisted the temptation. He should have known this couldn’t end well. No matter what he had said yesterday, it was only an excuse. Kimishita was still in love with Mizuki, of course he’d be disgusted to kiss someone else. And of course he wouldn’t be able to look at Ooshiba after that, because of course he couldn’t help remembering that moment whenever he saw his face and recoiling in disgust over and over again. Kimishita hated him now. Ooshiba had made him hate him. Once again his own greed and selfishness had ruined it all.

 _You’re too greedy, Kiichi._  How many times had he heard that sentence? Over and over again, and he had tried to listen. He really had. He had tried to follow Kimishita’s advice and become less greedy. He had wanted to push forward less, consider the needs of others, use his head, just like Kimishita had told him to. And he had been succeeding, he thought. He had been doing well. Kimishita had seemed proud of him, and it had made him proud of himself, too.

But in the end he had failed. In the most important moment of all he had been put to the test, and his greed had won. He had rushed in headfirst like he always did, but this time there was nobody around to cover up for him and tell him his mistake was no big deal. This time there was no second chance to fix it. He had gone and ruined the one thing he had always thought would be there for all his life, the one precious, irreplaceable thing he had never, ever wanted to lose.

If only he could travel back in time. If only he could rewind this and slap his former self in the face before he could ever think of this suggestion, before he could ever speak it out, let alone convince Kimishita to go along with something that ended up disgusting him so much. No, if only he could travel even further back. He wished he could go back to the time before they got into Seiseki, before Kimishita ever had a chance to meet Mizuki and fall in love with him, and made his past self realize how he had felt all along. Maybe then, he thought, everything would have turned out differently. Maybe then it might have been him Kimishita fell in love with, and–

Who was he kidding. That wouldn’t change anything. Kimishita would still recoil and end their friendship as soon as he started getting too close. He wouldn’t fall in love with him just because Ooshiba started acting a little different. If anything... their friendship would just be over even sooner.

Kimishita didn’t love him back, after all. He never had, and he never did. It had always been doomed to stay a hopeless crush, a distant dream that he could never reach and never let go of.

That knowledge hurt. It hurt like a thousand burning knives in his chest, cutting deeper and deeper as his heart bled out. It hurt so much he could barely breathe, his hands desperately clutching the front of his shirt in the feeble hope of somehow easing the pain.

He knew this feeling. It was the same feeling that had once hit him when he had so stupidly crushed on that girl who turned out to have a boyfriend, the same clenching, cutting sensation in his chest, the same stinging pain in his heart. But this time it was stronger. This time it was a million times more painful, more violent than he had ever felt anything before, and this time there was no one around to help, no Kimishita to explain what he was feeling and give him advice and make him feel better. Because Kimishita was the reason he felt this way in the first place. And no one else could possibly have helped him the same way.

He wished Kimishita was here. If he was here with him it all wouldn’t be half as bad, because just his presence alone was reassuring like nothing else was. If Kimishita was here he’d scowl at him, sure, click his tongue and hit him in the ribs and tell him to stop being melodramatic and get over it because there were more important things in life than a stupid lost crush. But his voice would be kind as he said all that, sympathetic and caring even has he grumbled and complained, and that would be all Ooshiba needed to know that somehow, in the end, everything would be all right. Because Kimishita was there. And nothing bad could ever happen to him as long as he had Kimishita around.

But what was he thinking all that for? All that wasn’t possible. Kimishita was gone. It was because Kimishita was gone that he was feeling like this in the first place. And no amount of wanting him back would change anything.

He missed him. He missed him so much.

These stupid feelings. Why were they all one-sided? Why had he fallen in love with someone who was disgusted by the mere concept? Why had Kimishita fallen for Mizuki, who couldn’t even appreciate how much these feelings meant? Why had he lost his heart to the wrong guy when Ooshiba had always been right here, ready to offer him everything,  _everything_...

He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up in a corner and break down completely and cry until no tears were left, until his whole body and mind were so numb and drained of emotions that it didn’t hurt anymore. But no matter how much his chest clenched, no matter how much he wanted to burst into tears, his eyes remained so dry he couldn’t remember how he had ever managed to cry before.

Ooshiba glanced down at himself. His body was shivering, he realized. He needed to get out of the cold, or he’d get sick. Not that he cared much right now. But he couldn’t afford to get sick right before nationals; the team still needed him, and he wanted to play. After all, even when the world seemed to have collapsed around him, soccer was still something he could hold onto. Soccer was there. Soccer wouldn’t leave him when everyone else did.

Gritting his teeth to withstand the stab of pain, Ooshiba gathered himself off the ground and slowly started the quiet, lonely way home.

\---

Kimishita hurried along the streets, never turning, never stopping, stubbornly avoiding all strangers’ gazes as he fought back the tears threatening to well up in his eyes.

He wouldn’t think about what had happened just now, he told himself. He wouldn’t recall. He wouldn’t remember. He would get home and throw himself into chores and homework and everything he could find, and then he would forget about today, forget that it ever happened and live on, never worrying about this disaster again.

Yeah, right. As if he could.

Everything about the conversation earlier was haunting him. No matter how hard he listened to the noises around him, all he heard was his own voice telling Kiichi off. No matter where he looked, all he saw in front of his eyes was Kiichi, his silhouette as he stood there in the snow, tall yet oddly fragile, his shoulders trembling slightly, his face horror-struck and disbelieving and full of bitter, tormenting pain.

He knew it had been necessary. He knew he needed to distance himself from Kiichi, as clearly as possible, needed to cut all interaction between them until he was finally sure of his feelings again. And yet, whenever he thought of Kiichi’s face, whenever he remembered, he couldn’t help feeling like a criminal.

Damn it, it hurt. He didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt him. He didn’t want to see Kiichi like that, shocked, upset and heartbroken, betrayed beyond anything words could describe. He had never liked to see anyone important to him hurt, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, Kiichi was incredibly important to him. So important that seeing this face alone made him want to pull him in and comfort him and beat up whoever had made him look like that and stay by his side until he smiled again. But what should he do if this face, this expression was his fault? He wanted to punch himself. He wanted to turn on his heel and run back until he found Kiichi again and pull him into his arms and tell him the truth, no matter how shameful and destructive it would wind up being later. For the moment, anything would work. Anything to get that pained, heartbroken look off Kiichi’s face.

And then what?

Kimishita clicked his tongue, scowling at himself as he pushed back the pulling sensation in his chest. After he indulged and went back and explained himself to Kiichi, what would he do? How would he deal with Kiichi knowing that he was having confused feelings for him when Kiichi was hopelessly in love with someone else? It would only separate them again, and this time he wouldn’t be able to get them back to normal with just one conversation. Things would get awkward between them, at the very least. And the result would be the same as now, except that it would cost him his pride and a dear friend who wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Well, maybe that was already the case now. After what he had thrown at Kiichi earlier, he wouldn’t be surprised if he hated him now and never wanted to see him again. And that would be all for the better, he told himself as an odd feeling of loneliness lurched up in his heart. They had started out as enemies, and it had worked just fine. If anything it had worked better than all attempts at friendship that had ever sparked between them, no matter how much they had grown to care about each other over the years. Maybe enemies were the only thing they could be in the long run. Maybe it was all they were meant to be.

Besides, if Kiichi really hated him now, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting too close to him again and catching feelings.

Kiichi’s pained face flickered through his mind again, but he shook it off. He’d be fine. He had just grown overly attached, but he’d get over those stupid feelings in no time. And then he could go back to Mizuki the way he had today and everything would be fine. Even without Kiichi. It would be all right.

Almost.

\---

Kimishita finished his homework much too early. He stared at the door for half an eternity, but no one came into the shop. He picked up his schoolbooks and tried to study, but after half an hour that also grew boring, and he found himself staring at the door again, not entirely sure if he was hoping for anyone to come in or waiting for someone in particular.

His body and mind felt heavy. For the first time in ages he had trouble staying focused, spacing out and staring numbly at his schoolwork every few minutes or pulling out his phone and glancing at the screen in a mixture of anxiousness and expectation, only to stuff it back into his pocket with a sigh and an irritable click of his tongue. Of course there was nothing. What was he waiting for? He should push all those thoughts out of his mind and start focusing on his work for good.

That was what he told himself, and yet every time the door swooshed open something fluttered in his chest, and every time his phone buzzed in his pocket his heart skipped a beat, hoping against hope that this time, maybe, hopefully, it could be news from Kiichi. Of course it never was. What was he expecting, that Kiichi would just forget about the crushing insult he had thrown in his face earlier and reach out to him again? Kiichi might be stubborn and too loyal for his own good, but he was also proud. And he was the last person to reach out to someone after a fight if he thought he had been wronged.

Why did he want to hear from him so badly, anyway? Why couldn’t he just accept what he had done and move on with this? Why was it that no matter what he tried to focus on, his feelings and feeble expectations were always getting in his way?

This really was starting to feel a lot like...

He wouldn’t think of that. He wouldn’t remember that time. It had been a mistake, a bout of idiocy that he wouldn’t stumble into again. Kiichi had been unavailable then, and he was just as unavailable now. And Kimishita had Mizuki. The less they focused on each other, the better for them both.

With a sigh Kimishita picked his textbook back up, trying to remember where he had left off and feebly forcing himself to ignore the anxious flutter that still stirred up inside him at the tiniest distraction.

Closing time came and passed, and with a sinking feeling in his heart Kimishita got up, peering out through the door in vain search of a figure standing outside, hands stuffed into his pockets, breathing clouds into the icy winter air, a silhouette running up the street and heading towards his house without catching his breath, calling his name as their eyes met. But there was nothing. The street was as empty as ever, and there was no one standing in front of the door, avoiding his eyes or grumbling or pouting but still there, only an arm’s reach away, close enough for comfort, close enough to touch. Nobody was running up to him, no Kiichi to help him sort out this mess, no Kiichi to reassure him it was okay and they were still friends even after this harsh, cruel insult. He was alone.

Better get used to it over the break.

It was his father’s turn to make dinner today, but Kimishita took over for him. Handling the stove and tools and ingredients forced him to focus on something that wasn’t Kiichi, and it helped a little. He still felt heavy. But at least he didn’t feel like he was being pulled towards something that wasn’t there anymore, and that was definitely an improvement.

“This is delicious!” his father said when they had finally sat down to eat, his voice too bright and cheery for Kimishita’s mood. “You’ve one-upped yourself again here, Atsushi!”

Kimishita glanced down at his own plate, his food still barely touched, his taste buds numb and unable to register what he was eating at all. “Thanks... I guess.”

His father paused and gave him a long, thoughtful look, and Kimishita knew immediately that he should get better at faking his emotions. “What’s up with you?” he asked softly. “You’re looking a little down. Did something happen?”

 _I guess you could say that,_  Kimishita thought grimly. A lot had happened, countless things that he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to talk about. So he just shrugged and clicked his tongue, mechanically shoving down another mouthful of rice and chewing. “Nothing important.”

“Are you sure? You say that a lot when something’s wrong... well, never mind.” His father smiled. “I won’t bug you, you know.”

Kimishita said nothing and took another bite, mentally begging the plate to get emptier already. He couldn’t wait to get away from his father, no matter how much he could probably use company right now. He didn’t want to see or hear anyone. All he wanted to do was curl up under a blanket and not face himself or the world until he had to return to the school for nationals.

“By the way, Atsushi,” his father said after a minute of silent eating, “we’re almost out of most things now, aren’t we? So if you’re not too tired, you could go to the convenience store and stock up when we’ve finished eating.”

Kimishita looked up to glance at his father’s face. For a second he felt like there was something knowing in his eyes, an understanding twinkle, and Kimishita couldn’t help wondering if his father had figured out that he needed something to do. Knowing him, he probably had. There was never any telling how much his father understood about him without telling, but as long as he didn’t make things embarrassing with that knowledge, Kimishita decided he didn’t mind. All that mattered was that this was a job for him to do, and going to the store sounded a lot better than holing himself up alone in the silence of his room for the rest of the evening.

The finished dinner in silence, and Kimishita got up to do the dishes and check what they were missing, compiling a shopping list and checking twice to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything before slipping on his shoes and coat and heading outside. The streets were quiet at this time of the day. It was dark, and not a soul was outside, all of them sitting happily together behind the illuminated windows that lit his way where the streetlamps weren’t enough.

Kimishita took a deep breath of the cold night air, trying to shake off the burden still weighing down on his shoulders. Usually he liked the silence of the streets at this hour, but today it was pulling at him. What felt peaceful and comforting to him on other days seemed lonely now, sad and deserted, as if the entire world had gone elsewhere to stay with their loved ones while he had been abandoned here alone. He wished someone else was here. The old lady from across the street, maybe, the one who had known him since he was a toddler, or that man from the flower shop who occasionally asked him for help with carrying heavy things and rewarded him in coffee and strawberry bubblegum. Someone, anyone who felt familiar, anyone who called out to him and reassured him that he wasn’t completely alone in the world.

Most shops were already closed at this hour, but the shiny new pet store was still open. Kimishita half considered going inside. Taking a look at some kittens playing around or sleeping sounded like medicine for his soul right now. He’d just try to steer clear of the tropical fish section.

He was halfway towards the entrance when a loud and somewhat familiar voice reached his ears, and he squinted at the form in front of the pet shop window before remembering that he had once seen this kid before.

“Mommy, Mommy!” the little boy shouted at the top of his lungs. “Look, they’ve got a koi here!”

The brat’s mother, looking less stressed than the last time Kimishita had seen her but visibly more exhausted, stopped a few steps away and sighed.

“We talked about this, Kotarou,” she said with forced patience. “You can’t have one of those, it’s much too expen–”

“Can too! See that price? I got enough money now ‘cause I’ve been saving up for that 3DS! And it’s so small!” The boy looked at his mother with puppy-dog eyes. “Can I buy it? Pleeeease?”

The mother sighed. “But then you won’t be able to get a 3DS, do you understand?”

“I don’t mind!”

“And koi are hard to look after, you’re too young–”

“I can learn it!”

“Kotarou!” She gave a huff. “No means no. You’ve already got Sharky and that’s enough, you can’t get a second fish now!”

“But I wanted a koi before I ever got the first Sharky! They’re way cooler than some stupid goldfish, anyway!”

“And I said no back then, and I’m saying no now. You agreed to get a goldfish, and now you have to look after it properly. Even if it was just a compromise, it’s still a living creature, okay?”

Kotarou glared at her with fury in his eyes, and for a second Kimishita thought he might throw a temper tantrum again. Then he huffed, sighed, and hung his head as he trudged after his mother with his shoulders drooping in disappointment, glancing wistfully at the koi in the window. Kimishita gazed after them, feeling an odd sense of sympathy for the brat. Seeing his sad face somehow gave rise to the irrational urge to go into the store and buy that fish for the kid, even though he know it was a waste of money and would just land him in trouble with the kid’s mother.

Well, couldn’t afford to help anyway. Thankfully this time. His mother was right, he should stick to his goldfish.

Shaking his head, Kimishita turned and walked past the pet shop to head on towards the convenience store.


	27. Disoriented

“Usui.”

Placing a bookmark between the pages, Usui shut the book he had been reading and turned around to face the visitor who had appeared in his room, without knocking, as usual. It didn’t startle him. After weeks and months of living under the same roof as all his third-year teammates, he wasn’t even sure any of them were capable of surprising him with anything anymore.

He smiled, taking in Mizuki’s figure where he stood. He had changed out of his school uniform and into light jeans and a T-shirt that would make anyone but him catch a cold in this season, and his hair was still half damp, as if he had suddenly been struck by a thought in the shower and immediately felt the need to communicate it to Usui. Which usually meant that it was either very bizarre or very important, quite possibly both.

“What’s the matter, Mizuki?”

Mizuki blinked, opened and closed his mouth, and made several oddly concise but incomprehensible gestures until it occurred to him that he still needed to use words to communicate. Staring rather flatly at his hands, he frowned, as if only just trying to figure out how to put his thought into words a normal human being could understand.

“ _Chirp-chirp-chirp_ ,” he said at last.

Most people might have given him up at that, but Usui only smiled with quiet patience. “Crickets?” he ventured, and Mizuki nodded. “Quiet? Something is quiet, is that right?”

Mizuki nodded again. “He was. Earlier.”

Haibara definitely would have shouted at him by now, Usui thought with some amusement. Kimishita would flat-out try to strangle him. Why, even the more patient ones on the team would probably try to hit him and tell him to get to the point. Not that Usui himself felt like it. He found Mizuki’s thought process much too entertaining to watch.

“Hold on,” he said, even though he already knew who Mizuki was talking about; he had suspected it from the moment the door opened, and his suspicion had been confirmed as soon as Mizuki opened his mouth. “Who are you talking about?”

Mizuki looked lost for a moment, then the fact that he had accidentally withheld the most crucial bit of information slowly dawned on him, and his expression turned sheepish. “Oh.” He scratched the back of his head, his face somewhere between confusion and embarrassment as he once again attempted to put his words in order. “Kimishita. He was quiet at practice.” He frowned. “But this morning he was more  _whoosh_. It’s weird. Maybe something’s wrong.”

“Oh,” Usui said under his breath, “you finally noticed?”

“What?”

“I mean... Really? What gives you the idea?”

Mizuki’s frown deepened, his head tilting to the side as he made more incomprehensible gestures, the gears visibly turning in his mind as he attempted to put more of his thoughts into words. “Kimishita... was always a little  _hissy_  around me,” he said at last, imitating a frightened cat. “Every time I tried to do boyfriend things for him he pulled back. But today he let me... no. He tried to do the boyfriend things.” Mizuki brushed a finger over his lips. “He kissed me.”

Usui’s eyebrows rose skyward. “Kimishita did?”

“Mm. At lunch.” Mizuki gazed into the distance, as if remembering the scene. “It was... nice.”

He said it with some hesitation, and Usui smiled in understanding. “Let me guess,” he said. “You didn’t dislike it but you don’t get why people make such a big deal out of it, right?”

Mizuki stepped up to Usui’s chair and patted a hand on his shoulder. “You understand me, Usui.”

“You’re not all that hard to understand.” Usui couldn’t help giving a soft laugh. “But anyway, if Kimishita started to reach out to you, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Even if he became quiet at practice afterwards, he was probably just flustered.”  _Poor Shiba though,_  he added in his head.  _He must have lost all hope._

But Mizuki shook his head. “He was... weird,” he said. “Still nice to me. But weird. And he didn’t talk to Ooshiba all day.”

Well, and there it was. So even Mizuki had caught on this far, had he? That was truly worrying. If Mizuki had realized something was off, then so had everyone else on the team. The situation was both more obvious and more serious than Usui had initally feared.

He had an inkling of what might have happened, of course. He wasn’t sure on the details, but it was clear that sometime between the end of classes yesterday and today morning something had happened between the ever-squabbling second-years, something that had put a huge damper on their recently improving relationship. Shiba had been feebly trying to catch Kimishita’s attention all day, so the problem obviously lay with the latter; coupled with Kimishita’s sudden boldness with Mizuki it painted a picture of him that was almost... desperate. And not desperate for Mizuki’s love or attention, like he had always tried so hard not to seem. If anything he seemed desperate to block out something else, throwing himself into Mizuki’s arms and ignoring Shiba completely as if...

Oh. So that was the problem.

Good grief, Kimishita really was a disaster when it came to love. Shiba had to be a masochist to be able to bear all that and not drop him at the next corner like a hot potato. Was that the famed true love? If so, then it was surprisingly synonymous with idiocy. Usui wouldn’t know. He was too casual about these things to be able to follow the second-years’ thoughts from anything but an informational standpoint.

“Don’t worry,” he said to Mizuki, giving him a reassuring smile in the face of the impending doom. “Kimishita’s probably in the middle of sorting out all his feelings and will do some more things that don’t make sense to you.” Not really a lie. “We should try to get him and Shiba to make up, although for now it’s fine if they just cooperate on the pitch... You just try to be there for Kimishita. And no matter what happens, keep supporting him.”

Mizuki gazed at him for a moment as he took in all that information, then he gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Okay. Thanks, Usui.”

Leaning back in his chair, Usui watched the captain return back to the door with a graceful nod. “You’re welcome. And Mizuki?”

Mizuki stopped in the doorframe.

“Good luck.”

\---

Kimishita woke up unwilling to get up or do anything except lie here, curled up under his blanket, unseen by everyone and ignorant to the world.

He hadn’t slept well. Despite being so tired he had spent hours and hours lying awake last night, rolling from one side to the other as his thoughts chased each other around in circles, the kiss with Mizuki and the fight with Kiichi replaying constantly in his head. He had gone back and forth between excitement, guilt, shame, fury, sadness and longing so many thousand times that by the end of it he couldn’t tell which emotions belonged to which memory, leaving nothing behind in his head but a dark, heavy feeling that weighed down all his thoughts and made him wish he didn’t exist and nothing of the roller-coaster journey yesterday had ever happened.

Part of him had been hoping he would be fine today. The more annoying, stupidly optimistic part of him had thought that if he just slept for a night he’d wake up feeling better, yesterday’s drama nothing but a silly overreaction looking through today’s eyes. But he had been naïve, of course. Sleep hadn’t given him any relief. His confusing, conflicting feelings had chased him right into the realm of his dreams, and he had woken up today feeling worse than ever.

Something buzzed an arm’s reach away. His phone, pestering with some sort of notification or message he didn’t want to see. Who cared about messages right now. He wasn’t in the mood to see, hear or read anything from anyone. Whatever people wanted from him would have to wait. What sane person would even attempt to contact him at nine in the morning on the first day of break, anyway?

A memory popped up in his head. Not too long ago, just a few weeks ago that seemed like an eternity now, back when everything had still been okay, or at least bearable... had he not thought the same thing back then, that day when Kiichi, the same Kiichi who never willingly woke up before noon, had all but yanked him out of bed before he’d even had the chance to get breakfast?

It couldn’t be, not this time. Definitely not. It was just desperaction speaking in his head, unable to leave him alone, a stupid hope that maybe all of this would magically fix itself without him having to go and apologize to Kiichi and trying to figure out what to say himself.

But what if...?

His heartbeat picked up, anxious butterflies stirring up in his stomach. He tried to push them down, tried to tell himself that this was ridiculous and there wasn’t the slightest reason to hope, not after yesterday, not with the kind of person Kiichi was. It had to be someone else. It definitely was, and he was getting excited for no reason.

Clicking his tongue at his own stupidity, Kimishita grabbed his phone and opened the message, determined not to get disappointed no matter what it said and who it was from.

It wasn’t from Kiichi. Of course not. The sender’s address bar read  _Captain_.

Mizuki. A message from Mizuki, first thing in the morning. Kimishita tried to get excited, but despite all his efforts his heart sank. Nothing from Kiichi. Of course not. He should have known, and still he was disappointed. Frustrated. Lonely.

He couldn’t believe this. Mizuki had texted him. Mizuki, his boyfriend, acting more and more like they were a real couple. Wasn’t this what he wanted? His past self would have lost his mind over this. He would have been on cloud nine, smiling like an idiot, fluttering with joy and giddy happiness for the entire rest of the morning, and possibly all day. Wasn’t this what he had always dreamed of? Why wasn’t he happy? Why was he not only indifferent... but disappointed?

What was wrong with him?

It must be because of the fight, he tried to tell himself. He was feeling guilty about treating Kiichi the way he had, so guilty that it drove all other feelings from his mind. What he wanted right now wasn’t Mizuki. Right here, right now, what he wanted the most was to get out of the disaster he had created, clear his conscience and make sure he hadn’t ruined his friendship with Kiichi. An impossible feat, he knew. He couldn’t clear this up at the moment. His only option was to wait and grow accustomed to the thought, the memory, until the wound inside him was no longer fresh and open but slowly healing over to leave only a faint scar behind. Time would have to fix this. In time he’d be able to think of other things and get excited over Mizuki’s texts again. It was only natural to still hear the explosion ringing in his ears the day after it happened.

For the time being he shouldn’t focus on that echo too much. The best thing he could do right now was to keep his eyes and mind on other things, push away the pain until it had grown faint and stale enough to not take up his entire body and mind.

Tapping to open the message, Kimishita read Mizuki’s text in greedy haste, eager to take in anything that would lighten his mood right now. It wasn’t a long text, but then again, Mizuki’s messages were never a word longer than necessary. In fact, going by Mizuki’s standards it was almost uncharacteristically long.

_Good morning, Kimishita. How are you doing? Let’s meet up later today if you have time._

A small part of Kimishita’s chest fluttered a little, the faint shadow of happiness and excitement waking from its guilt-induced slumber. It was the first day of the break, and Mizuki already wanted to see him. And Mizuki had texted him good morning along with it, and asked how he was doing too. That was so much beyond anything Kimishita would have asked from him. He really was growing into his role, and no matter what else his feelings were, he definitely cared about Kimishita a great deal. And right now, when he was feeling so helpless and lonely and didn’t know what to do, that was so, so comforting.

_Good morning, Captain,_  he wrote back.  _I’m doing well, thanks for your concern. If we could meet up today, I’d appreciate it._

He sounded a little stiff again, he knew, but not stiff enough to make him care. He had conveyed everything important with the appropriate politeness, even if he had lied about how he was doing. Oh well, it wasn’t like Mizuki needed to know. No need to worry him with something that was neither his business nor anything worth worrying about. This was Kimishita’s problem alone.

_He’s your boyfriend,_  a voice replied in his head.  _You’re supposed to be dating. Couples should be close. Shouldn’t he of all people know what’s going on in your life, including the bad things?_

_You had no problems telling Kiichi, after all._

Kimishita flinched. Where had that thought come from? Whatever it was, it was ridiculous. Stupid. Pointless. Kiichi was different. He wasn’t his boyfriend. Never had been. Kiichi was... a friend.

Just a friend.

Just... a friend.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. That thought was normal, rational, logical. So why... why on earth was it that this time he couldn’t repeat it in his head without his heart turning to lead and sinking in his chest?

\---

“Kiichi, are you still sleeping?”

Ooshiba groaned, rolled over, and pulled the blanket over his head. Of course he wasn’t, he thought. He wished he was. But today that wish had been nothing but a distant hope, an increasingly frustrating desire as he tossed and turned back and forth under the covers, unable to find sleep since five or six in the morning, haunted by Kimishita’s face, his voice, the echo of his words every time he closed his eyes. His lids were heavy, but his mind was awake. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and forget, forget about yesterday, forget about everything, but not even that wish was granted to him after the last day had shattered all his wishes, hopes and dreams to pieces.

"Kiichi!” Mikoto’s voice called again, clear and loud and obnoxiously responsible. He wished she would leave him alone. His heart had been crushed yesterday, couldn’t he at least keep lying here and wallow in his misery in peace?

“What?” he shouted back, just so she would shut up and leave him alone.

“You’ve been shut up in your room all morning and it’s already lunchtime,” Mikoto answered with worry in her voice. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Ooshiba blinked, raising his head from underneath the blanket to glance at the clock on the wall. Was it really that late already? He had no idea. All sense of the passage of time had disappeared from his mind ages ago.

“Kinda,” he replied, even if he had no idea if he was hungry at all. Right now he felt like he could go for the rest of his life without eating and not feel anything until he died of starvation. “Be there in a sec.”

Mikoto didn’t reply at once. But there were no footsteps moving away from his door either. Had she caught on again? It wouldn’t be the first time she could tell from his voice that something was wrong. Stupid sisters and their super senses.

“Is everything all right?”

Of course not, he thought. Everything had never been less  _all right_. The question alone was so ironic that despite the heavy feeling in his chest he couldn’t help huffing a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied through his teeth, even as an opaque, colorless mist spread slowly out of his heart and into his entire body, draining the last bit of happiness from him that he hadn’t even known he still had. “Be right there.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get up, to be honest. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to get dressed and go down the stairs and eat lunch with his sister and parents, if he wanted to see them at all. He didn’t want to sit at the table with them, pretending he was okay. Just the thought made him crawl even deeper under the covers. But... he didn’t want to be alone right now either.

Besides, he really was hungry. A little. Probably.

Ooshiba threw the blanket off himself with a huff. What was he lying around here being miserable for? Kimishita was probably going on with life as always. Eating lunch with his father, studying for the classes he might miss during nationals, watching the store. And probably– no, definitely not wasting a single thought on Ooshiba. So why should he be moping and thinking about him? He didn’t deserve all this. What better way was there to truly show him who the winner was than by forgetting about him and having a great time without him, the stupid jerk?

Damn it, that sounded so good in theory. But he didn’t want to have a good time right now. Especially not without him. It still hurt, dammit!

Gritting his teeth and fighting the thickening mist that was clouding his body and mind, he got up, changed out of his pajamas, threw on the first clothes he could find, and made his way down the stairs.

\---

Kimishita wasn’t hungry, but he forced himself to eat nonetheless. His father would get worried if he didn’t, he knew. Besides, even if it didn’t feel like it right now, his body had to need the nutrients. Not that he could tell for sure. Right now he couldn’t tell anything about himself for sure except for the dull, constant sensation of heaviness, the invisible weight pulling him down and draining his energy and making him want to hide from everyone and stop existing for a few hours or days or however long it took him to finally feel like a person again.

Part of him regretted agreeing to meet up with Mizuki after lunch. He honestly didn’t feel like interacting with anyone right now, much less having fun. It wasn’t even guilt that was weighing him down like this, although he was sure it was a factor. If he managed to actually enjoy himself with Mizuki when he had been so cruel to Kiichi just yesterday, he would hate himself forever. But mostly he felt... drained. Exhausted. As if someone had pulled a plug that had made all the happiness and humanity spiral directly out of him, leaving only a faint shadow behind.

And yet... he couldn’t backpedal on Mizuki now, could he? He should have thought of this before agreeing to meet. Now that he had, he would have to see it through to the end. Even if it drained him completely. His own fault for not using his head earlier.

“Pops,” he said in the middle of his lunch, momentarily putting down his chopsticks as his father looked up from his food mid-chew. A faint trace of embarrassment, anxiousness maybe. As if he was about to confess something forbidden.

“I’m... meeting up with a... a friend later.” He knew his face was heating up. “So... if you could mind the store...”

His father swallowed the mouthful of cup ramen, observing him with continued curiosity in his eyes. “Sure,” he said simply. “Why so stiff again though? If it’s your Kiichi you always go out unannounced.”

_Your Kiichi._  Something about that wording made him flinch. “He’s not–” he began to protest, but a violent twist in his gut broke him off. “That’s because he drags me everywhere without asking! If he ever bothered to announce himself instead of barging in uninvited–”

“But you don’t seem to mind going places with him, do you?”

There it was again, that sharp, twisting pain. As if someone had taken his insides and pulled them into a new unnatural shape, one that he didn’t want to see or acknowledge. And yet his father’s harmless, cheerfully uttered words weren’t far from the truth; if anything they were too close to it, much too close for comfort. “That’s... I guess,” he muttered, feeling like the worst human being to ever exist. “Not like we’re going anywhere again anytime soon though.”

“Why?” his father asked, his cheery smile fading into surprised curiosity, an expression that left Kimishita feeling strangely exposed, as if his father could see into his soul. “Did he leave for the break?”

Kimishita couldn’t bring himself to look into his eyes as he replied, “Something... like that.”

“It’s okay, I’m not asking for details.” His father smiled and ruffled his hair. “You go and enjoy yourself with your friend today. The same friend you’ve been meeting up with a lot lately?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue in irritation, but to his surprise his face didn’t heat up further. “Does it matter?”

“No, sorry.” His father grinned, but to Kimishita that grin still seemed much too knowing, much too understanding, as if he was aware of a thousand things that even Kimishita himself hadn’t realized yet. “As long as you enjoy yourself, son.”

At the moment Kimishita honestly wasn’t sure he’d be able to. But it was definitely too late to start thinking about that now.

\---

“Seconds, Kiichi?”

Ooshiba stared at his plate, trying to get a signal from his stomach, any kind of information on whether or not he still wanted to eat more. No response. His body felt numb. Right now he couldn’t even tell if he was already full or so hungry he didn’t feel hunger anymore. All he knew was that he really, really didn’t want to sit here with his family.

Pushing away his plate, he stood up, caring little where his chair ended up in the process. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered halfway back to the door. “I’m going back to my room.”

Behind him he could hear the clatter of a chair being pushed back, footsteps that followed his own. “What, you’re not even planning to wait until the rest of us have finished too? And you’re not thanking for the food?” his mother shouted after him. “What did I tell you about manners, Kiichi?”

Ooshiba closed his eyes, pushing out the mental image of someone else saying that exact same sentence, a deeper voice, sharper and more irritable yet more welcome than any other in the world. “I don’t care.”

“Kiichi! Here you stay!” His mother wasn’t following him, but her voice was loud and clear enough to reach him in every corner of the house. “What’s the matter with you? You haven’t been eating since you came home from school yesterday! Are you getting sick? No appetite is always a sign of–”

Ooshiba didn’t let her finish the sentence. He marched out of the dining room and slammed the door behind him.

Almost as soon as he did, he regretted his actions. Before this he had been feeling terrible. Now he was feeling terrible and alone, and somehow that seemed a thousand times worse.

He wouldn’t go back, of course. Like hell he’d go back on his actions and return to his stupid family with his tail between his legs like some weak-willed loser. But he didn’t want to be alone either. He needed someone else to talk to. Maybe not someone who’d listen to his woes, because for that he’d have to let them in on the whole secret, and he honestly didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his few friends like that. Just someone who wouldn’t question him if he was broody and miserable for a few hours. Hideki, maybe. He just hoped he had time right now.

Flopping back down on his bed, Ooshiba picked up his phone, ready to compose a message to Hideki when a notification caught his eye. It was from Usui. He blinked. Usui? Usui never texted him about anything.

_Are you free today, Shiba?_

...Or maybe he would get the chance to vent to someone after all.


	28. Communication

Kimishita walked down the stairs with dread knotting tightly in his gut, a cold, anxious sensation he couldn’t shake off or explain. Some part of him was afraid of meeting Mizuki, but the fear right now was different from all the times he had been nervous about going on dates with someone who only agreed to them out of kindness. Right now it wasn’t the date aspect that felt scary to him. It was the prospect of seeing Mizuki at all, no matter the context.

What was wrong with him today? Things had been going so well recently. And no matter how bad he felt about his falling out with Kiichi, he couldn’t sit around at home and do nothing but mope out of guilt! He needed to go out and get his mind off things for some time. Rationally he understood that perfectly well.

But then... why did it suddenly feel so wrong?

He sighed. So annoying. Stupid, irrational, worthless emotions. Feelings were honestly a troublesome thing, the one important reason why humans as a species were so useless, idiotic and all-around insufferable. Without emotions life on this trainwreck of an earth would honestly be a million times easier. Days like these Kimishita really wished they had an off switch somewhere, and he could push it and suddenly everything in his head would turn completely logical and rational. Robotic, perhaps, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay at the moment.

Mizuki was already waiting for him outside the door, visibly chilly even in his thick winter jacket. Inohara’s scarf was wound tightly around his neck again, and he breathed into his mittened hands, trying to get some warmth into them when he spotted Kimishita. Lifting his head, he waved, his expression curious and friendly as his eyes met with Kimishita’s, a kind-hearted, familiar sight. Kimishita tried to relax a little and failed. If anything his heart sank lower in his chest, making him feel even worse.

The figure standing outside his door, waiting for him in the cold... Not too long ago that had been someone else. Someone who wasn’t going to come back here anytime soon now.

_Stop thinking of him,_  an irritable voice said in his head.  _You’ve made your decision. No getting close again until you’ve secured yourself in your feelings._

And to be able to do that – for the millionth time, he didn’t know why he needed to keep repeating it to himself over and over – he needed to spend as much time with Mizuki as he could.

“Good afternoon,” he said in a voice that didn’t fully sound like his own, stepping out through the door and shuddering from the cold winter air clashing into his face. “Did I keep you waiting?”

Mizuki shook his head, breathing into his hands again. “No, I just got here,” he said, barely a second before his teeth inadvertently chattered together. He rubbed his arms. “So cold.”

“Then let’s go somewhere warm instead of freezing to death here!” Kimishita said a little more irritably than he had intended. His face heated up a little. “I mean...” Once again he found himself unable to look Mizuki in the eyes. “Where are we going today?”

Mizuki tilted his head. “Hmm... Futsal? There’s a place I want to try. Kazama told me about it.”

Something soccer-related, huh. Part of Kimishita relaxed a little. Moving around would probably do him good, and he wouldn’t have to worry about holding up a conversation. Perhaps spending time alone might have been better to reaffirm his feelings for Mizuki, but it had been soccer that had made him fall for him in the first place. It wasn’t too strange to assume that soccer would bring them together again.

“Futsal it is,” he said with a little more confidence than he had felt all day. “Let’s impress some strangers.”

Yes, he thought. That was definitely what he needed right now. Just the thought of playing soccer with Mizuki, improving their combined attacks and freaking out the amateurs around them brought back a sense of confidence he had almost forgotten he still had. He couldn’t keep on sitting around and moping at home forever. He had to get out again. And this was just the perfect way to get him happy and motivated once more.

\---

Ooshiba stood at the door of the third-year dorm, unsure what to do or how on earth he was supposed to get in there.

He should probably have thought about this before coming here, he realized. When Usui had invited him to the dorm he had accepted without paying much attention to the details, and now here he was, with no idea if he should knock or ring a bell or shout or just wait until one of the dorm’s inhabitants bothered to open the door and go outside. Should he text Usui? Call him? No way, he could probably figure this out by himself... Would the door open if he just pressed this button, he wondered?

_Idiot,_  Kimishita’s voice said inside his head.  _This is why you deal with such problems before they arise! Do you ever stop and think before you do anything, you fucking houseplant?_

With Kimishita this would never have happened, he thought. Kimishita would have thought matters through. If he had left this to Kimishita, he wouldn’t be stuck outside right now, wondering what to do.

If he had left everything to Kimishita... none of this would ever have happened.

There it was again, that acute pain in his chest. He never learned after all. What had Usui told him? Patience. If only he had waited longer. If only he had let Kimishita do the decisions. Kimishita was smarter. Kimishita’s decisions were so much better. Nothing could have gone wrong if he had only relied on Kimishita to make the move.

No. This wasn’t. His fault. This wasn’t his fault. This wasn’t his–

“Shiba?”

The door opened, and he snapped out of his tortured thoughts back into reality. His gaze was met with Usui’s friendly face, smiling up at him and beckoning him inside in that quiet, unreadable manner that was so unique to him.

“I realized you wouldn’t be able to get in by yourself,” Usui said, opening the door wide enough for Ooshiba to follow him into the building. “Come on in! Don’t worry, there’s no one in this dorm right now except us. Most people have left for the break, you know.”

Ooshiba peered from side to side, as if expecting one of their teammates to appear around the corner at any given moment in spite of Usui’s words. Usui seemed to notice, because he smiled, leading him swiftly through the building and up several flights of stairs where he gestured at a row of locked doors.

“They’re all empty,” he said. “Inohara, Haibara, Hayase and Kokubo have all gone home for some days. Mizuki’s gone out.” He turned and smiled knowingly over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon.”

_Gone out... with who?_  Ooshiba wanted to ask, but he swallowed the question. After all that had gone down since yesterday, did he really need to ask?

If Usui knew what was going on in his head, he didn’t show it any more than usual. Still wearing that unreadable smile on his lips, he led him up to one of the doors, opening it and beckoning him inside to motion him into the chair standing unused in one of the corners while he himself took a seat in his desk chair. Ooshiba shifted uncomfortably. His seat was too small and too narrow for his liking, much better suited to the smaller and leaner Usui, but never in his life would he have dared to ask the vice-captain to switch seats. Usui swiveled towards him in his chair like a businessman, legs crossed and that all-knowing, all-understanding smile still annoyingly steady on his face.

“Shiba,” he said, “could it be that anything happened between you and Kimishita?”

\---

Kimishita sat down on the nearest bench, breathing hard and taking a giant gulp from his water bottle. Adrenaline was still hot in his veins, his entire body energized with the excitement of chasing the ball through the hall, dribbling it past baffled opponents, passing it in such high arches it almost grazed the ceiling, and slamming it into the net before anyone could understand what was going on. Exhausted as he was, he was still eager to go back, jittery and shaky and buzzing from head to toe from the urge to keep playing.

He and Mizuki had obliterated all their opponents. No matter who had challenged them, they had played every single one of them into the ground, shocking their challengers silent and striking awe into the faces of their teammates and audience. No one and nothing had even come close to stopping them, and they had won every game by themselves, sometimes pulling their less skilled teammates along, sometimes playing against the entire hall at once, two on ten or even more. Nobody had anything on their speed and accuracy, their combination and teamwork and split-second strategies.

“Good game,” Mizuki said as he sat down next to him, breathless and sweaty like Kimishita and splashing water into his face. “Your passes are as  _ka-boom_  as ever.”

Kimishita tried to be annoyed, but this time he couldn’t help smirking at the use of the stupid sound effect. “I must be spending too much time around you,” he said, crossing his arms and looking Mizuki in the eye. “This time I know what you’re talking about.”

Mizuki smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “You’re learning.”

“As long as I don’t have to start talking in confusing sound effects too.” With a content smile Kimishita leaned back and stretched out his legs, sighing in relaxation as his breath evened out. On the opposite side of the small soccer field a handful of others did the same, trying to recharge after a fast but exhausting game while a group of strangers got ready to play. It was a strangely comforting sensation, somehow. Familiar. As if he was back at the schoolyard in elementary school, taking a well-deserved break after playing game after game against the other kids for fun, caring little about titles and championships and strategies. Just soccer for the sake of soccer. Playing just to play, running just to run, trying new techniques and attempting to break his own record of the most keepie-uppies in a row for no reason except to see if he could. No expectations, no pressure. How long had it been since he had last played freely like this, with nothing to limit him or hold him back?

Much too long. But he wanted to do it more. Not always, of course. He liked the responsibility that came with supporting a team, and he liked the trust the others put in him. And yet sometimes, every once in a while, it really did him good to put all that behind him and simply play for the fun of it. That was why he had started, after all. Because he loved it. Because it was fun.

And honestly, as he sat there, sweat-drenched, exhausted and happy right next to the boy he loved, he wished time would never start moving again.

“You look happy.”

Mizuki’s voice roused him from his daze after what felt like a second and an eternity at once. Blinking, he refocused his gaze into the here and now, turning to look at Mizuki with surprise and the faintest hint of embarrassment at being caught so openly content and unlike himself. “I am,” he said, simply because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Good. I’m glad.” Mizuki gave him two thumbs up this time. “You were a bit  _dun-dun-dun_  earlier. I got worried.”

Kimishita’s cheeks flushed a little. So Mizuki had noticed him feeling down earlier too? It must have been really obvious. “You didn’t have to worry,” he grumbled, glaring stubbornly away from him again. “It was nothing worth mentioning. Forget it!”

“Okay... So it wasn’t because something happened between you and Ooshiba?”

Kimishita’s heart stopped beating in his chest for a second. All color drained from his face as he turned back to stare at Mizuki in complete wide-eyed horror.

“What the–?” he burst out, his mind frantically running through any and every possibility how Mizuki might know, how much he knew. Had he witnessed the confrontation between him and Kiichi somehow? No, no, that couldn’t be it... But then how did he know? Had someone else noticed and told him something? Had they been too loud to not be overheard? What if Mizuki knew about the kiss too, what if, what if–

_Stop._  He couldn’t know that, or he’d have said something. No need to panic. He needed to play it off. Play it cool... that was so much easier said than done.

“You...” he stuttered, trying to ignore the way his mouth was going dry, his face hot and cold at the same time and his hands clammy with an icy cold sweat. “Wha... How do you...”

“Hmm...” Mizuki frowned, seemingly struggling with words. “You... acted like you had a fight.”

For a moment Kimishita simply stared at him, half wondering if he might be lying, or hiding something, or only telling him part of the truth. But Mizuki’s expression seemed as genuine as ever, and Kimishita honestly couldn’t believe he’d be capable of lying at all, especially not when it came to something as important as this. Something inside him collapsed with relief. So he didn’t know. He hadn’t found out. Not yet.

“Yeah,” he muttered without looking Mizuki in the eye. “Something like that.”

Not really a lie, he told himself.

Mizuki’s frown deepened from concern into worry. “But that’s bad,” he said.

_No kidding,_  Kimishita thought bitterly. He had figured this much out himself the moment he had looked at Kiichi’s pained, horror-struck face. Did it change anything? Decidedly not, unless he counted feeling like the worst human being in the universe.

“Nationals are coming up,” Mizuki went on. “We can’t have you two fighting.”

He flinched. That was yet another problem he had been pushing out of his mind. Ignoring each other over the break was fine enough, but what would he do when they had to play together in official matches only a few days from now? Would Kiichi cooperate with him? Or was he so furious and offended that he would ignore him entirely and jump headfirst into every mistake? And if it was the latter... how should he work this out?

If they failed to make up and their teamwork suffered as a result... would it be his fault if they lost at nationals and the third-years had to bury their dream of winning the title with everyone forever?

“I’ll think of something,” he muttered, trying to sound as confident about it as he didn’t feel. “It was something stupid. Don’t worry.”

“Are you... angry at Ooshiba?”

The question came out of left field. Kimishita flinched and stared up at Mizuki with startled wide eyes, trying to find an answer in his face that wasn’t there, some kind of explanation how he had come up with this thought, let alone decided to ask about it in the first place. Did he know something after all? Or was this question another one of his wild guesses, out of the blue and as inexplicable as the rest of him?

Of course he wasn’t angry at Kiichi. He had never been, not for a single second. The fault was all with him. But he could see how his behavior yesterday had led people to think that.

“Not particularly,” he said with a noncommittal shrug, ignoring the cutting pain in his chest. “I just... don’t want to talk to him right now.”  _Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why._

Mizuki tilted his head in question. “Why?”

Irritation reared up in Kimishita’s veins, along with a surge of panic. These questions were getting too well-aimed, too close to the mark. Every part of him wanted to lash out at Mizuki, wanted to yell at him to shut up and stop asking such stupid questions about things that weren’t his business, but somehow he restrained himself. He gritted his teeth, bit down on his anger, and answered in a quiet, strained voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s personal.”

“Okay.”

For a very long, slow, silent moment Kimishita couldn’t bring himself to look at Mizuki at all. The last word still hung in the air between them like an echo. Kimishita tried to read into it, tried to figure out what Mizuki felt, what he was thinking, but the more he replayed the word in his head the less he understood. Was Mizuki disappointed that he didn’t want to talk about something personal with his boyfriend? Was he confused? Did he simply accept it and not mind? Was he still worried that Kimishita and Kiichi might not make up in time?

At last Kimishita gave up, setting his jaw and glancing over at Mizuki to see his reaction. The captain’s face was unreadable. If he was disappointed or concerned, it didn’t show in his perfectly blank, serious face.

“I’ll sort it out,” Kimishita muttered, more to break the silence than anything else. “It won’t affect the team. Don’t worry about it.”

Mizuki smiled. “I know. I trust you.”

The smile, the words, the gentle tone formed an arrow and shot it directly into Kimishita’s heart. His face caught fire. Butterflies rose and took flight in his stomach, and for a moment he had to resist the urge to grab Mizuki’s face and kiss him right here and now, in front of an entire crowd of strangers who could see them at any given second.

He didn’t. He had a better idea. It would take some patience, but he knew it would pay off in the end.

“Shall we go back?” he asked as casually as his current emotional state allowed. “If you don’t mind... I’ll walk you back to the dorm.”

\---

Ooshiba stared over at Usui, torn between lying and spilling his guts about everything that had happened, everything that bothered him right now, everything that hurt like a knife in his heart as soon as he just thought about it. But most of all he was surprised. How had Usui figured out what had happened this quickly? Usui always knew a lot, of course, but even he couldn’t be a mind-reader!

“Who told you shit happened?” he asked spitefully, shooting a defiant glare at Usui to hide the panic creeping up inside him. “Were you there or something?”

“Me? No.” Usui gave a chuckle. “I just put two and two together. Even Mizuki noticed something’s wrong, you know?”

Ooshiba clenched his fists. Mizuki... of all people. Why did that guy have to notice? Mizuki was the last person he’d want to know of his misery! He had already taken everything that Ooshiba wanted and couldn’t have. Why did he have to notice this and add insult to injury?

Anger flashed through him, coupled with fury and bitter, frustrated spite. “I’m not gonna tell you!” he burst out, jumping from his chair and crossing his arms to hide the way his hands were shaking. “You’re just gonna tell Captain! I’m not gonna tell you shit when you’re gonna tell Captain!”

Usui raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t seem fazed by his reaction at all. “Shiba, I won’t–”

“Shut up!” He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to say it. Not in front of Usui, who was best buddies with Mizuki, who shared  _everything_  with him and would just add to his heartbreak and humiliation. “This is all Captain’s fault! I hate him!”

Usui raised his second eyebrow, then he sighed in understanding, an understanding that only infuriated Ooshiba even more. “Shiba,” he started again. “I promise I won’t tell Mizuki anything you don’t want him to know. All I’m trying to ask you is what happ–”

“ _No!_ ”

This was wrong, some part of Ooshiba whispered. Deep down he understood that. But the rest of him was on fire, a volcano on the brink of eruption, too furious and upset and hurt and frustrated to give a single damn anymore. “You told me to be patient!” he shouted. “You told me to be a nice and supportive friend and it didn’t help shit! I tried! But Kimishita doesn’t see me! You told me to go back into the friendzone and now Kimishita’s disgusted with being more than friends! You acted like you were helping me when you were on fucking Captain’s side all along!” His voice cracked, shaking and trembling with fury. “This is all your fault!”

Usui didn’t say anything. He simply looked at Ooshiba while he caught his breath, the hatred and anger fading slowly from his body to leave only neverending sadness behind. None of this was true, he knew it. None of this was Usui’s fault. It was his, his alone, for being unable to wait and bide his time until Kimishita was ready to kiss him and not Mizuki. Usui had done the right thing. It was he who had screwed up.

“Okay,” Usui said at last, his expression as quiet and gentle as his voice. “And now that you’ve calmed down, tell me if you really feel that way.”

Ooshiba tried to say something, but his throat felt so tight he couldn’t utter a word. With a tiny shaky breath he just swallowed and shook his head.

“I thought so,” Usui said with a smile. “And now sit back down and tell me exactly what happened.”

Ooshiba nodded again, swallowed hard, and forced his voice to cooperate as he told Usui everything. Several times his voice broke and he had to stop, fighting off tears that would neither fall from his eyes nor go away, and after he finished he simply hung his head, wanting to do nothing more than bury his face in a pillow and cry.

“I see,” Usui said after a moment’s pause, still sounding deep in thought. “Shiba... are you sure Kimishita really hates you as much as you think?”

Ooshiba looked up in surprise. “What?”

“I mean...” Usui gazed off into the distance, then he focused back on Ooshiba’s eyes. “Don’t you think Kimishita could be pushing you away because the kiss made him question his feelings?”

He... hadn’t even thought about it that way.

Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat. For a short, precious moment hope stirred up in his chest, breaking a crack through the sadness and pain, small and careful but bright. Then it collapsed back into the abyss. “No,” he muttered. “If he questioned his feelings he’d have dumped Captain’s ass already. He hates me.”

“Don’t forget that he still feels like he owes Mizuki. He’s probably scared to break up,” Usui replied. “Besides, don’t you think he might not know about your feelings? Because then it’d make sense for him to rather stay in an unhappy relationship he already has than break it off for someone who might not even agree to go out with him out of sympathy.”

That encouragement rang hollow. “He knows,” Ooshiba insisted. “Everybody knows. That’s why he hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Kimishita is dense.”

“He’s smart. The smartest guy I know. He knows.”

Usui gave a sympathetic sigh. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said. “What’s with that defeatist attitude? That’s not like the usual you at all.”

“Because...”

Ooshiba’s heart constricted in his chest. The lump in his throat was cutting off his air. His eyes were burning with tears uncried, but they remained dry, so painfully dry that it hurt to keep them open.

“Because... he’d never fall for someone like me.”

“Oh, Shiba.”

Usui got up from his chair, and footsteps padded across the room, shortly before a pair of arms wrapped gently around his shoulders. “This really has crushed you, hasn’t it?” he said kindly. “Not even your self-esteem could withstand all that heartbreak. But don’t worry, it’s just the pain talking.” He patted Ooshiba gently on the back. “Once you’ve calmed down you might just find that you have a better chance than you think.”

Ooshiba said nothing. He simply sighed and rested his head against Usui’s shoulder, taking a little comfort in the touch even as his thoughts drifted back to Kimishita. He wished it was Kimishita hugging him like that. He wished it was Kimishita standing in front of him, trying to comfort him, telling him that his shattered self-esteem was wrong and he really did stand a chance. But those were futile wishes, he knew. Usui hadn’t seen Kimishita in that moment. But he had. He knew.

At long last Usui loosened his hold and stepped back, looking down at Ooshiba with a concerned look in his eyes. “Better?”

Ooshiba nodded, even if he wasn’t sure it was true.

“Remember, don’t let it crush you. Don’t give up just yet, you won’t regret it.” Usui smiled at him. “Mark my words, Shiba.”

Ooshiba nodded, and as he said goodbye to Usui and made his way back down the stairs he actually caught himself wondering if all those words weren’t just empty encouragement after all. Usui knew people. Usui was better at reading them than he was. What if he had noticed something Ooshiba couldn’t see?

He got back to the front door and slipped outside, walking along the dark path, careful to keep to the shadows and out of sight. A little way off two figures were walking up to the entrance, tentatively holding hands. He stopped. He knew these people.

They came to a halt in front of the door Ooshiba had just walked through a minute ago, turning to face towards each other. “Thanks for today,” said one of the voices, and Ooshiba felt every word like a blade to his heart. “Good night, Captain.”

And then Ooshiba had to watch as Kimishita got up on his tip-toes, cupped Mizuki’s face and kissed him.

No, he thought as all hope died down in his chest. Usui had been wrong. He had never stood a chance with Kimishita, and he never would.


	29. Thinking

It was quiet as Kimishita gazed after Mizuki, watching him disappear through the door of the dormitory building with another glance and a smile, quiet and suddenly incredibly lonely.

He was all alone again now, he realized. He had been happy with Mizuki, happy enough to forget about his worries for awhile, happy enough to relax and be himself again after losing himself in the crushing feeling of guilt and frustration and loneliness that had been weighing him down ever since yesterday. But now that he was by himself again those thoughts were coming back, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run after Mizuki or just run away.

He couldn’t be alone with his thoughts right now. He needed a distraction, something to do, even if that something only consisted of talking to someone he loved about something stupid and meaningless. He needed it more than anything, and yet the other part of him was screaming at him for it, screaming to stop running away and having fun with someone else when he still hadn’t dealt with the damage he had done to his friendship with Kiichi. What business did he have being happy when Kiichi was left alone to deal with such a verbal punch in the face?

Maybe it wasn’t that bad, he tried to tell himself. All he had done was tell Kiichi he had hated the kiss. So what? Few people would enjoy kissing their platonic friends. And as harsh and downright cruel as his wording had been, Kiichi would get over it. It was an insult to his ego, that was all. He could get over those just fine. Maybe Kiichi wasn’t hurt at all, and Kimishita was making a fool of himself worrying about it.

Who was he kidding. Of course Kiichi was hurt. He had seen his face yesterday. That wasn’t the expression he usually wore when someone only hurt his ego. His expression yesterday had been one of pain and betrayal, the face of one who had put his entire trust in him by sharing something incredibly important and personal and had been brutally stabbed in the back. Kiichi wouldn’t simply get over that in one day. No one would.

What should he do?

He didn’t know. He felt alone. He didn’t want to be alone. He wished Mizuki would come back, not even to say anything but to let him cling to him and stay by his side until all these confusing feelings in his heart and mind calmed down and he felt steady and safe once more. But deep down he knew that wasn’t possible. Not as long as he refused to address the root of the problem.

He wanted to be with Mizuki. But he also wanted Kiichi back. He wanted to sit somewhere and talk to him about everything that bothered him like he used to, and he wanted to look into his eyes and know that he wasn’t alone and somehow, eventually, everything would be all right. Kiichi would know how to comfort him. Kiichi would instinctively understand what was wrong without him having to say it and already be waiting for him to spill when he was ready, and then he would open his arms for a hug and Kimishita would relax into it and simply forget the world for a moment. If Kiichi was here with him, he wouldn’t be going around feeling like this. Helpless. Confused. Frustrated. Alone.

But who should he vent to when he couldn’t tell Kiichi? Who should comfort him when Kiichi was the very source of his worries this time?

He didn’t get it. He had been so happy with Mizuki earlier. Things were going so well between them, even though he knew Mizuki still didn’t like him back. They were starting to act and feel more and more like a real couple. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. And yet... without Kiichi around that happiness was always only temporary. Without Kiichi it didn’t matter how much Mizuki did for him, at the end of the day he would still feel alone.

What did he want?

He didn’t know. It didn’t make sense. All this time he had dreamed of being by Mizuki’s side as an equal, a partner, a lover, and now that he finally had all that and had the courage to grow into the role he couldn’t help feeling incomplete. And it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense!

_Maybe Kiichi really is the most important person in my life, after all._

He flinched. That thought had come out of left field. And for some reason it terrified him. His heart skipped a beat. His face heated up as his eyes darted about, as if searching for someone who could possibly have noticed the realization shooting suddenly through his mind.

Not that there was anything wrong with the thought, he was quick to remind himself. It didn’t have to mean that Kiichi was more important in the romantic sense. Some people were simply closer to their friends than they were to their significant others; looked like he was one of those people too. Mizuki was the same, naturally. The thought was common, perfectly harmless. An ordinary observation, that was all.

So why... why did it still make him feel so horribly guilty?

\---

Ooshiba lingered in the shadows, watching Kimishita stand in front of the closed dormitory door for a slow, silent moment, as if waiting for Mizuki to reappear at any given second. His face was turned away, facing in the opposite direction of where Ooshiba stood, and yet Ooshiba didn’t have to see his expression to know exactly what he was thinking, what he was feeling. His pose, his body language, the very outline of his quiet frame and the wind in his hair told him everything he needed to know.

He could call out to him now, Ooshiba knew. Kimishita was only a shout, a few footsteps away, close enough to reach, close enough to cut through the invisible distance hovering in between them ever since Christmas evening. If he just stepped out of the shadows, if he called his name, what would happen? If he ran over to Kimishita and grabbed his shoulders and told him he loved him, what would happen? If he only called attention to himself somehow, if he said a sentence, a single word... what would happen?

Probably the same as yesterday. If it didn’t just get even worse.

It wasn’t fair. Kimishita was close, so close, and yet it would have been better if he had been on the other side of the planet, going about with his life somewhere a dozen timezones away, safely out of reach without carrying the constant reminder that he was taken and not interested, and no matter what Ooshiba did or said, nothing could ever change that. If only he didn’t have to see him here. If only he didn’t have the chance to talk to him. If only he didn’t have to stand trapped behind this invisible wall between them, cutting him off from Kimishita no matter how far or close he was.

At long last Kimishita turned and started walking back towards the street, and for a second Ooshiba thought he would spot him. But Kimishita’s eyes were empty as they crossed over the spot where he stood, gazing at nothing, lost in thought. His expression was melancholy, lonely somehow. It was a face Ooshiba had seen before, so many times, every time he had done something together with Mizuki and returned wanting more than he ever dared to ask.

If that kiss hadn’t happened, he would have come to Ooshiba now. He would have talked about everything that had gone down, everything that was bothering him, and Ooshiba would have comforted him, and then he would have awkwardly pulled him into a hug and at least for the evening everything would have been okay. But that was over. All he could do now was stand by and watch, watch as Kimishita walked down this path alone struggling to deal with everything on his own, watch and do nothing when every part of him was silently calling Kimishita’s name, screaming to run after him, talk to him, comfort him, anything. He had ruined it. Not just for himself. For them both.

Kimishita walked past him and onto the sidewalk of the street when he suddenly paused in his steps, looking as if he had walked into an invisible wall. His posture straightened, and he hurriedly glanced over his shoulder as if searching for something. Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat. Had he suddenly noticed after all?

_Now,_  said a voice in his head. If he wanted to go after Kimishita, he needed to do it now. It was a perfect opportunity. Kimishita wasn’t spaced out right now, and he was still standing there. Standing... standing... as if he was waiting for someone to catch up to him, something to happen...

Ooshiba tried to call his name, but his throat was dry. Invisible hands of dread closed around his arms and legs and held him in place. He could come after Kimishita right now. He could call his name. But then what? What should he do? What should he say? Was there anything he could say at all without making things between them even worse than they already were?

Of course there were, he tried to tell himself. He was a genius. He’d always made his way out of every bad situation before. He would succeed this time. He’d just have to go by his gut feeling, and things would be just fine.

_But his gut feeling had made him kiss Kimishita in the first place too, hadn’t it?_

Yeah... no... but... but that had been different. He wasn’t planning to kiss Kimishita right now. He just wanted to talk to him. Not even to make up or apologize, although he might want to do that. He just couldn’t stand the silence between them any longer.

He was a genius. He was cool and handsome and popular. He had always succeeded at winning everyone over in the end. He’d be fine. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this... really, definitely...

Ooshiba tried to call out again, but his throat betrayed him. On the sidewalk Kimishita shrugged and resumed walking. With a rough gasp Ooshiba stumbled out of the shadows, nearly tripping over his feet and stopping short in his tracks even though nothing was holding him back, no walls, no fences, nothing except his own subconscious. His hand was extended feebly towards Kimishita, as if hoping to pull him back if he couldn’t follow him by running. He tried to shout again, and this time a sound came out, but his voice was hoarse and strangled and far, far too quiet.

“Kimi–”

Kimishita didn’t stop. He didn’t turn around. He simply quickened his pace even further, disappeared around a corner and was gone.

Ooshiba had failed it. He had missed his chance. He, who loved nothing more than having all eyes fixed on him, had hidden from the one he had wanted to see him the most. He, who was so good at grabbing attention and keeping it, had been totally, completely, utterly overlooked.

What was the point of this?

What was the point of him being a genius, he wondered? What was he talented for if there was someone even better than him around? What was he handsome for if he couldn’t attract the one he loved? What was he popular for if the one person who really, truly mattered simply wouldn’t notice him at all? He got nothing out of all this, nothing! If it was like this he might as well be bland, boring, average. What did it even matter if the results were all the same?

A gust of wind swooped through the street and tossed at his hair, and he took a heavy breath. He couldn’t keep standing around here forever. Sooner or later someone would come by and notice him, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to see him in his misery. He didn’t want to be pitied. Especially not by any of his teammates who lived here.

Throwing one last glance at the silent dormitory building behind him, he took the rest of the path in a few strides and quickly started running down the street, heading back towards his home but always keeping his eyes open as he went, hoping against hope that he might still run into Kimishita after all.

\---

It couldn’t go on like this.

Kimishita slumped backwards against the wall, raking his hands through his hair. His insides were in turmoil. His pulse was racing, his head was spinning, and his inside his mind his thoughts were chasing after each other’s tails, circling and circling and circling around each other as if they were trying to win a bizarre kind of race. Whenever he reached out to grab them they turned into nothing, and his shaky hands reminded him once more that none of this made sense, that this was nothing but blank, blinding, unfiltered panic.

It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. It must have been a figment of his imagination, a hallucination brought about by guilt or some messed-up sort of wish, and yet every time he replayed it in his head it seemed to feel more and more real. And he didn’t know which option was scarier to him in the end.

One way or another, when he had been walking away from the third-years’ dormitory, for a second he had heard Kiichi’s voice.

It was ridiculous, of course. Kiichi had no business being there. He wasn’t a third-year any more than Kimishita was, and he wasn’t all that close with any of the third-years either. The possibility of him having been invited by someone wasn’t zero, of course, but at the moment most of their teammates weren’t even there; they had returned home to return what little they got of the break with their families. Kiichi would have had absolutely no reason to be there at all, to say nothing of appearing there at the very same time as Kimishita. No matter how much he dreaded or wanted it, it was simply too impossible to have been real.

And that, in turn, could only mean one thing. He wanted to hear Kiichi’s voice so badly that he had mistook something else for it or even imagined it entirely.

It couldn’t continue this way. This was going too far. Guilt and frustration were one thing, but hallucinations were something else entirely. Something had to change. Something had to be done. He didn’t know what, but something had to happen. And soon, before he let this entire disaster affect him even more.

_Nationals are coming up. We can’t have you two fighting._

He sighed. And that was the more important problem, one that he was still pushing off. In just a few days he wouldn’t be able to avoid Kiichi anymore. Forget seeing each other, they would have to play soccer together, communicate and make their combinations work in matches after matches against the most powerful teams in the country. Would they be able to do it if they weren’t even talking? And no matter how terrified he was of the prospect of interacting with Kiichi again... could he really risk the alternative?

He had to settle this somehow. He had to find peace. No matter how he did it, he needed to calm down his restless mind and make sure he and Kiichi kept on functioning as a duo, at least on the pitch. Somehow he would have to stop his heart and mind from doing somersaults every time he so much as looked at Kiichi, and somehow he would need to come up with a way to apologize to him without telling the truth. And he would have to do it soon. He needed a plan...

And for that, he realized, he could ask someone who would probably understand all this much better than he did. And he wouldn’t even need to explain his own situation in detail.

\---

Ooshiba lay flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling without actually seeing a single thing.

He didn’t remember much of the day after coming back home. There was a faint memory of eating dinner with his family, another one of soaking in the bath, not even noticing that the water got cold until Mikoto knocked on the door asking him why he was taking so long. And now he was here, not even trying to sleep, just lying flat on his bed and staring at nothing while everything that had gone wrong today replayed over and over in his head.

It bugged him. It bugged him that he had missed his chance to talk to Kimishita, to call out his name and say  _something_ , anything, whatever it was that he should have said at that moment. To apologize, perhaps. He should have gone after Kimishita and said he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to do anything he hated and that he would never kiss him again. Maybe then, he thought, then they could at least become friends again. Even if it would still hurt him to think that they could never be anything more.

Yes, he should do that. He should definitely apologize. Kimishita might not accept his apology, now or ever, but it was worth a try. He was a hero. Heroes didn’t lie around moping and doing nothing when something was wrong. Heroes tried to change things. He should do it, even if it only meant the slightest chance that someday, eventually, they could get along once more.

His gaze shifted to the phone on his nightstand. Part of him wanted to call Kimishita now, or at least text him. It would be the normal way. Less clingy. Less creepy and uncomfortable, especially after what he had done. But somehow, in a way he didn’t fully understand, it also didn’t feel right.

It was weird, but... somehow he needed to talk to Kimishita about this in person. Face to face. He needed to see his reaction, see how he responded, and then he would know what to do and what to feel. Besides, who knew if Kimishita would even answer his phone. For all he knew he might already have blocked his number.

Three more days then, he thought. In three days they would meet again for nationals anyway, and when the tournament started they’d have to at least pretend to be okay. He was the ace, he needed Kimishita’s assistance. And when he wasn’t the ace, he needed Kimishita’s advice to get back into the role. Without their cooperation Seiseki could never win this tournament. In three days he would see Kimishita again, and then he’d have every excuse in the world to try and make up with him.

Three days. Three long days.

He didn’t want to wait that long. And who knew what would happen if he did. Would he even catch Kimishita alone? They’d be surrounded by people after all. What if he didn’t? What should he do?

Screw this. He wasn’t waiting. The sooner he talked to him again the better.

Tomorrow, he thought. He couldn’t go out anymore today, but as soon as he had enough time tomorrow, he would be on his way to Kimishita’s doorstep to try and talk this out.

\---

“Pops... can I ask you a question?”

His father glanced up from the paperwork he’d been bent over in the dim light of the single lamp on his desk, looking equally surprised and glad to be disturbed. “Atsushi,” he said, turning around and putting down his pen. “That’s rare. What’s the matter?”

Kimishita shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his father’s eyes and opting to stare at the ground instead. “It’s... well.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down the embarrassment stirring in his chest. He had never asked much about this topic before, he realized. Perhaps because he had always instinctively known that his father didn’t like to talk about it. But right now he had no choice, not if he wanted to somehow put this whole chaos in order in time.

“After Mom left... you saw her again a few times, right?”

The question lingered in the room for a few moments, a silent echo that remained in the air after the words had been spoken. Kimishita didn’t dare look at his father’s face. More than ever he wanted to run out of the room and hide in a dark corner where no one could see him.

“Well, that’s unusual,” his father said after a long pause. “You never mention her on your own. What brought this on?”

Kimishita studied the pattern of the shadows on the wall. “Nothing special.”

“Okay then, I’ll believe that.” There was a smile in his father’s voice now, even if he sounded a little sad. “Well... yes, of course I did. We had to get all the divorce papers done and everything, you know.” He sighed. “I have to admit, I’ve had happier days.”

The memory made him sad. Of course it did. Something clenched in Kimishita’s chest. He wished he could get around this somehow, get all the answers he needed without asking his father all these painful questions. But there was no way around it, none that he could think of.

“Back... Back then...”

He could feel his father’s eyes on him, curious and questioning. “Hm?”

“Back then... how did you get through having to face her?” Kimishita swallowed, hoping his voice didn’t sound as raspy as it felt. “I mean... how did you go about seeing her and... keeping your feelings in check?” He clicked his tongue and sighed. “If that makes any sense.”

“Oh, Atsushi.”

There was a creak as his father got up from his chair, coming to stand next to the wall at Kimishita’s side, wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulders. “I won’t ask what you need this answer for,” he said softly. “But the truth is, I didn’t. Every time I saw her after she left I couldn’t help getting all emotional inside, wishing I could get her back and imagining all the ways things could’ve gone different. It took me all my willpower not to beg her to take me back, you know. It’s bound to hurt at first, you know. A lot.” He smiled, and there was something incredibly kind in his eyes, reassuring, just the way he had looked back when Kimishita was little and grudgingly came knocking on his door after a nightmare. “But you know,” he added, “in the end it helps. If I hadn’t seen your mom those few times, I’d never have been able to come to terms with what happened and moved on.”

Kimishita looked up at him in surprise. “You mean... if you see that person enough times it helps... instead of making it worse?”

“I’d say so.” His father ruffled his hair. “At least eventually it will. Seeing them move on kind of keeps you from lingering in hopes and what-ifs, you know? It keeps you from romanticizing the person. And, well, it provides closure.”

“I see.”

Dread settled inside Kimishita’s gut, but this time it was riddled with resolve. His father was right, he realized. He had to face Kiichi, or none of this would ever change. Even if they didn’t interact much. Even if their friendship remained cracked and damaged. He needed to do something, and do something he would. It was too late to impose on him tonight, but at the first appropriate moment tomorrow he would go and seek Kiichi out. He could always text or call him now, of course. But somehow that wouldn’t feel right. Even if it was risky, he wanted to talk about this with Kiichi in person.

Now he just needed to figure out what he was going to say.


	30. Reunion

Kimishita had been expecting to sleep better after making his decision last night, but somehow the opposite had been true.

With an unwilling groan he shifted under the blanket, pulling out an arm and flinching as it was hit by the cool air of the room, just extending it far enough to grab hold of his phone and squint at the time. He grimaced. How was it not even half past six in the morning? After the eternity that had been this night he felt more like it should be several hours closer to noon.

He had no idea how long he had slept, but in total it couldn’t amount to much more than three hours. For half the night he had been lying awake, tossing and turning as he jumbled words around in his head, trying and failing to come up with an apology for his behavior or an explanation that didn’t involve betraying much more of his emotions than he was willing to show. When he had finally drifted off his sleep had been light and restless, phasing in and out of dreams and nightmares and jolting awake at the slightest disturbance. Yesterday’s evening conversation with his father seemed a lifetime away. Someone could come in and tell him that someone had stopped all clocks in the world and in reality several months had passed, and he wouldn’t be surprised.

And still he had no idea how to go about the dreaded conversation.

Perhaps talking to Kiichi in person wasn’t such a good idea after all, he thought for what felt like the millionth time over. He could just text him something semi-coherent and that would be it. No need to look at his face to see if he forgave him. No need to turn up at his doorstep only to find that Kiichi had gone out, or was busy, or simply didn’t want to see him at all.

Something knotted up in his stomach, the same feeling that came to haunt him whenever he wasn’t doing enough for something that would be due soon or he thought he might have failed an exam and the results wouldn’t be out for another week. Except this time it was stronger, more acute; a dread of the uncertain so strong that it made him want to curl up and pull a blanket over his head and forget about everything until it was all sorted out by itself.

What if he couldn’t find the words to say? What if they wouldn’t be enough? What if he was too late? What if Kiichi hated him so much that he wouldn’t even let him in, let alone listen to what he had to say in the first place?

Kimishita sighed.  _Deep breaths._  He couldn’t panic now. He had set his mind to taking his chance with Kiichi, and take his chance he would. There were still some hours before he could leave the house and turn up at Kiichi’s place, excruciatingly long, terrifying hours that would give him more than enough time to go over the words in his head. If he was only vague enough, he thought, or if he left out enough parts of the story, Kiichi might forgive him. Or at least stop being hurt, he added in his mind, and allow them to communicate normally once the tournament began. They didn’t need to go back to the way they had been before, and he wasn’t going into this hoping they would. If they could simply manage to get back to a distant, civil level of interaction, that would be more than enough.

No, it wouldn’t. Nothing would be enough. He wanted Kiichi back, properly, as if nothing had ever come in between them. Was it possible? Of course not. So he couldn’t go around expecting it. The only part of him that hadn’t given up hope on it yet was a stupid, sentimental feeling.

What a pain. This was exactly the reason why he had tried to cut Kiichi off in the first place. Couldn’t he just stop depending on him so much and keep his emotions in check? It was like he was addicted to him, damn it!

_Kiichi, Kiichi, Kiichi..._

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita tossed the covers aside and jumped to his feet, a scowl of fury etched into his face. Enough of Kiichi, he thought. How much longer was he planning to lie around here, staring holes into the air and fretting over a million hypothetical situations? All he needed to do was apologize and be done with it! He should just say he had freaked out or something later. If it worked, it worked. If it didn’t... well, they still had the rest of the team to keep an eye on them both. He’d be  _fine_ , damn it!

Besides, he should really learn to keep his thoughts in check. After all he didn’t feel like he had ever spent this much thought on Mizuki. Not even the day he had confessed, even though he had been a nervous wreck back then.

And it wasn’t like he was going to confess this time. Not even close.

\---

Not even his tropical fish could distract him today.

Ooshiba stared at his own reflection in the glass of the tank, watching colorful little forms flitting in and out of the light, blue and red and yellow, hiding between plants and slipping behind stones and making bright bubbles of air float to the surface of the water. Time seemed to have stopped. Several times this night he had woken up in a sweat, once roused by a nightmare, another time thinking he had overslept, only to always find that it was still hours too early for him to wake up, let alone think of leaving the house and seeking Kimishita out. Even now it was early, far earlier than he usually woke up, so early that the rest of his early-bird family was still fast asleep. The only ones awake in this house were his fish, swimming easily in circles with little care for human worries.

Tropical fish... The aquarium visit came to mind, leading Kimishita past rows and rows of tanks, explaining to him what he knew about their inhabitants, watching his face light up with interest and an admiration and pride he so rarely saw directed towards him. How much time had passed since then? A couple weeks, and yet to him it felt like a lifetime. Things had been so easy back then. They had simply been friends, escaping their troubles to enjoy things together, exchanging teasing quips and understanding each other without words. If only his feelings had never happened he could still have that, he thought. Why had his emotions betrayed him like this? Why hadn’t he stayed content just being Kimishita’s friend? Stupid emotions. If only there was an off switch somewhere!

Another glance towards the clock. Barely five minutes had passed. Why was time so slow today? He didn’t want to wait anymore. He just wanted to see Kimishita, dammit!

He just hoped Kimishita would be at home when he showed up. Knowing his luck lately, he might not be. He had seemed so happy with Mizuki yesterday. What if he was meeting with him again today? Ooshiba would bet all his fish that they’d see each other again as soon as possible, and they’d be just as disgustingly happy and lovey-dovey as they had been last night. Or perhaps Kimishita hadn’t even gone home for the night. The way things were going, he might as well have... stayed over... at Mizuki’s... later...

He crushed that thought in his head before it could crush his heart.

No need to worry about that, he tried to tell himself. He’d be okay. He’d be just fine. He just needed to apologize and keep calm and patient and be a good friend. Listen to what Kimishita had to say, even if it hurt him. Respect his answer, even if it broke him. Maybe then, someday, eventually, Kimishita would realize just how important he was to him.

The clownfish in the tank slipped out from between the seaweed and tried to chase after one of the regal tangs, completely ignoring that the other seemed to want nothing to do with it and swam away as fast as it could. Eventually it gave up and went back into hiding between the plants, possibly resting from the chase, or maybe finding something more interesting to do by itself. Ooshiba knew that fish didn’t have feelings like people did, but despite that knowledge he still couldn’t help feeling like the fish was sulking.

Another glance at the clock. Six minutes had passed. The rest of the house was still asleep.

At this rate he’d be old and wrinkly before he ever got to leave the house.

Sighing from the depths of his heart, Ooshiba tore himself away from the fish, pushing back all thoughts of Sumida Aquarium and  _Finding Nemo_  and Kimishita that came with them. He should probably do something to kill time. Play video games, or something. Not that he was motivated. But giving himself something to do was probably a better idea than just standing around here doing nothing and waiting for time to pass.

If only the hands would move a little faster already.

\---

“Kiichi, get up! Breakfast is rea–”

The door opened, and Mikoto gasped and froze mid-sentence. For a whole minute she did nothing but stare blankly at her brother, her jaw hanging loosely in midair. Then she jumped five feet backwards and gave a window-shattering scream.

“Kiichi!” she shrieked, pointing one finger at him while holding an arm in front of her chest as if she wanted to protect herself. “No – who – who are you?” She continued to back away. “Don’t move or I’m calling the police! Who are you and what did you do to my brother?”

Ooshiba stared down at his terrified-looking sister, torn between confusion, impatience, and the grating frustration that he hadn’t recorded this response for future blackmail. “Sis, what the fuck?”

“You–” Mikoto stopped mid-sentence, squinting at him as some of the terror faded from her face. “It... really is you, isn’t it?”

“’Course I am!” Ooshiba replied irritably. “What’s wrong, sis? D’you not recognize your own magnificent little brother?”

To his surprise Mikoto didn’t seem to think of snapping back at him. She only stepped closer to him, looking him up and down with increasing worry on her face. “Is everything all right?” she said at last. “First you stay in bed till noon and then disappear without a warning, and today you’re ready and dressed even though you could sleep in... Are you sick or something?”

Ooshiba only scowled at her. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“ _You_  couldn’t sleep? You can always sleep!”

“Not today.”

Mikoto’s concerned frown deepened even further. “That sounds really worrying,” she said. “Maybe it’s better if you stay in bed toda–”

“ _Fuck no!_ ”

Ooshiba balled up his fists, barely keeping himself from grabbing her shoulders. Panic shot through him, a terrified sense of dread that was more frantica and acute than anything he knew. No. No. Anything but that. If he was forced to spend the day at home, waiting here alone for twenty-four more hours... even the thought alone made it hard to keep his sanity.

“I’m fine!” he said demonstratively, flexing his arms and nearly knocking his knuckles into the doorframe to underline the statement. “I don’t gotta rest! Look!”

Mikoto looked him up and down skeptically, and for a long, slow, dreadful moment Ooshiba thought she might banish him to bed after all. But at long last she sighed, shook her head, and made to walk back down towards the stairs. “If you say so... Anyway, hurry up, breakfast is getting cold.”

Sticking his tongue out at her retreating back, Ooshiba closed his door and followed, padding down to the breakfast table and gulp down his food barely noticing what it was in the first place. After breakfast, he told himself. After breakfast it would be late enough to leave the house and look for Kimishita. He only needed to finish his food, and then he would go, and no one and nothing could stop him.

“Thanks for the food,” he said as soon as he had finally cleared his plate, still coughing from the mouthful he had almost choked on and jumping to his feet at lightning speed. Mikoto lifted her head to stare at him in utter confusion, but before she could say anything he was gone, and her protesting shouts that it was his turn to do the dishes fell on deaf ears. Ooshiba was already putting on his coat, nearly buttoning it wrong in his hurry, his mind far outside the house. Just a little longer, he thought. A little longer and he could finally talk to Kimishita again and hopefully mend things between them. The long hours of waiting and doing nothing were officially over.

Now he just had to hope that Kimishita would be there when he arrived.

\---

“Pops, I’m going out!”

Kimishita lingered on the doorstep even though his body was urging him to hurry up, waiting for a response. There was a sound of someone rummaging through a clattering pile of things, then a door opened, and footsteps made their way across the apartment in his direction.

“Okay,” his father’s voice reached him a short moment before he himself appeared through the door. “Have fun, son! Meeting up with your friend again?”

Kimishita flinched, and his face briefly heated up with embarrassment. “Not today,” he found himself saying before he could think about it, even as the anxious part inside his head was screaming at him to drop the topic and hurry. “It’s more... I need to clear something up. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

His father looked a little confused by that cryptic answer, but he smiled nonetheless, waving as Kimishita opened the door and put on his shoes. “Okay, good luck then!”

“Thanks,” Kimishita muttered and mentally added,  _I’ll need it_. He still had no idea what exactly he was supposed to say. All he knew was that he needed to get to Kiichi, and he couldn’t bear to wait here a second longer.

Shutting the door behind him, he walked out into the street, picking up his pace until he was one shift away from running. Words and possible situations were moving around in his mind, putting themselves together to ever-new shapes and chains of events and possible outcomes, one as terrifying as the next. There was the scenario where where Kiichi didn’t want to see him at all, the one where he did but wouldn’t listen, then one where Kimishita arrived but couldn’t think of anything to say until he left without a word. But then there were also the scenarios where he succeeded at giving a suitable excuse, where Kiichi forgave him, one where Kiichi didn’t even bother to hear him out before pulling him into a ribcage-crushing hug. And... the scenario where he wound up telling him the truth. An outcome where Kiichi mocked him and called him names, one where he cut off their friendship on the spot, another one where he said it was okay but started avoiding him anyway. And then, as an afterthought, shy and hypothetical and dismissed on the spot, an outcome where Kiichi accepted his feelings, confessed that he felt the same and everything turned out okay.

Yeah, right. As if that could possibly happen. Even if that scenario wasn’t blatant cheating and betrayal towards Mizuki, it could never come true. He wasn’t the kind of person who was liked back by people. Especially if the people in question also happened to be male and exclusively into girls, not into romance at all or hopelessly in love with someone whose name he didn’t even know.

Enveloped in his own thoughts, he barely noticed as streets and houses passed by him, paying little attention to his surroundings as he braced himself for whatever would happen once he met Kiichi again. He didn’t dare hope for much. All he wanted was some sort of agreement, he reminded himself. Something they could work on, some sort of improvement on the wall of ice and silence that stood unspoken between them now.

He just hoped that Kiichi would be home when he arrived. He just hoped that he’d agree to see him. Hear him out. Give him a chance. He wouldn’t deserve it after his previous behavior, he knew. But he could still hope, frantically, desperately, because right now hope was all he had.

Streets, buildings, people flew by him in a haze. Kimishita mechanically hurried along without truly noticing anything. His heart beat faster and faster, the anxious butterflies in his stomach growing stronger with every step.  _Please be there,_  he pleaded silently.  _And please be the one to open the door. Or maybe your sister. If I had to explain myself to your parents, I wouldn’t know what to do._

After a walk that felt both too long and too short he finally turned the corner into Kiichi’s street, and icy cold dread hit him full force like a punch in the gut. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He couldn’t do this. It was humiliating. It was bound to go wrong. What was he doing? What on earth, what in the world was he  _doing?_

Kimishita clicked his tongue. Screw this. He had come this far. He needed to do this, for himself and for the entire team. What did a little embarrassment matter in the face of the results? He’d be damned if he turned back and chickened out now!

Breaking into a run just to spite his panicking mind, he raced up to Kiichi’s house and stopped short in front of the door, clenching his fists and taking deep breaths to keep his hands from shaking.  _Please be at home,_  was the only coherent thought his mind was able to form.  _Please be here. Please be here. Please be here._

No going back now.

Gritting his teeth and bracing himself for the worst, he rang the doorbell.

For a long, slow, terrifying moment, there was nothing but utter silence and the pounding of his own heartbeat. Then footsteps approached the door, and even before it opened Kimishita realized that the person behind it could never be Kiichi. He just hoped it was his sister, because otherwise–

The door opened, and Kimishita found himself face to face with Kiichi’s mother.

“Good morning,” she said, looking a little startled but somehow not surprised to see him at this hour. “Are you here to see Kiichi?”

“Y-Yes,” Kimishita forced out, willing the gears in his brain to keep turning instead of falling apart with sheer panic. “I mean... good morning. Is...” He swallowed, but his mouth was dry as sandpaper. “Is he here?”

Kiichi’s mother smiled, apologetic and a little knowing, and Kimishita’s heart sank to the ground. “Sadly, no,” she said. “He went out only a little while ago.”

Cold, icy dread closed its hand around Kimishita’s chest, and he took a step backwards. He should have known. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Of course Kiichi wouldn’t be here when he tried to meet him. And even if he was, he wouldn’t want to see him. He had hoped it wouldn’t end up this way. Hoped against hope. And hope, in the end, had proven him wrong after all.

“I see,” he muttered, unable to meet Kiichi’s mother’s eyes. “In that case... sorry for the disturbance.”

“Wait.”

He glanced up. Smiling eyes met his gaze, no longer apologetic but knowing and full of mischief, as if Kiichi’s mother was about to share a secret with him. “If you’re looking for him,” she said in a hushed voice, “I think he’s doing the same. I’m pretty sure I caught him muttering your name as he left.”

_He’s doing the same._

Her words resonated in Kimishita’s head, over and over and over in an echo that grew louder and louder each time, hope rising back from its depths, driving out the dread with a triumphant howl. Kiichi... might be out looking for him? That couldn’t be. But this was his mother saying it... but that meant... that meant...

Had they passed each other by without noticing?

He didn’t think twice. Without waiting another second he nodded, bowed, and hurried back towards the street, his heart swelling excitedly in his chest. “Thank you very much!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “Pardon the disturbance!”

There was hope. There was hope. There was hope!

With a flutter of adrenaline he raced back down the street, not slowing, not stopping. He knew where to go now. And he knew what to look for.

This time he would definitely pay attention to the people around him.

\---

“Oh? Good morning, Kiichi-kun.”

Ooshiba stood in front of the door, gasping and panting and more than a little surprised. He hadn’t even managed to reach the store door, and it was already open, Kimishita’s father smiling up at him, friendly as ever. “You’re here early today,” he said. “Oh no, did you run all the way here? Come inside before you hurt your lungs even more in this cold!”

“O... Okay,” was all Ooshiba managed to get out. Stumbling in through the door, his eyes automatically darted right and left, but there was no Kimishita as far as he looked. Maybe he was upstairs? No, he had to be. Otherwise...

“Uh...” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked everywhere but at Kimishita’s father, feeling his face heat up as he spoke. “Where’s Kimi– I mean... A-Atsu...”

“Atsushi? Oh, you’ll have to wait for him to come back.” Kimishita’s father smiled sheepishly. “He went out just earlier, you missed him by minutes.”

Ooshiba’s body and brain froze.

Missed him by minutes. He had missed Kimishita. Kimishita... had gone out.

Gone out where? No, he didn’t need to ask that. It was clear as day. Of course he was out to see Mizuki again, enjoy himself and hold his hand and kiss him and do all those stupid couple things and completely forget about Ooshiba and their fight. Fury bubbled up inside him. This bastard. First he crushed his heart, and then he ignored him and acted like nothing happened? He didn’t even deserve an apology, he, he–

Stop. He couldn’t know that until he found out for sure.

“Where is he?” he asked, a little too frantic and much too desperate. “I mean...” he added with an awkward blush, “do you... know where he went?”

Kimishita’s father frowned, pondering the question. “Not really,” he admitted, and Ooshiba’s heart sank. “He only said... hold on, I’ve got it.”

Ooshiba didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t–

“He needs to clear something up... is what he said.”

Ooshiba stopped short in his tracks. Had he heard that right? That didn’t sound like he was going to see Mizuki... that was...

Could that be...?

His body moved before his mind did. Spinning around on the spot, he ran back out the door, hurrying along the street he had come from. “I just remembered something!” he shouted as he ran. “Thank you!”

\---

Kimishita was halfway home when he rounded a corner and crashed face-first into somebody’s chest.

Staggering back, he muttered a curse, rubbing his forehead and regaining his balance with an irritated click of his tongue. “What the–?” he burst out. “Watch where you’re going, you–”

His eyes came to rest on the figure in front of him, and he froze on the spot.

For a long, slow second neither of them moved. Neither of them said a word as they stood there, less than two feet apart, staring at each other with wide, startled eyes. The only sound was the car passing by, close and yet distant.

“It’s you,” Kimishita said at last when he regained his voice. “I... didn’t see you.”

Kiichi only nodded. “Mhm.”

Kimishita’s face heated up, and he quickly looked away just as Kiichi did the same. Silence fell once more, thicker and heavier than before, full of all the words that hung between them, waiting to be said.

What should he say? There was so much he needed to tell Kiichi, so much he wanted to ask him. He should apologize, he knew. But how should he phrase it? No matter how many wordings he had thought of on the way here, they were all gone from his mind.

“Kimishita, I’m sorry.”

His head shot up. For a moment he stared up at Kiichi in complete horror, refusing to believe the words he had heard.

“You?” he forced out at last, half startled, half angered. “What the fuck are  _you_  sorry for?”

Kiichi’s face turned as red as his hair, and he stared at the ground, his hands defensively stuffed into his pockets and his lips in a stubborn pout. “The... the kiss,” he muttered under his breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not gonna do it again.”

Somehow his words were relieving, and yet the other part of Kimishita was crushed by a wave of regret. “Don’t apologize, idiot!” he snapped before he could stop himself. “I agreed to it! If I wound up panicking and treating you like shit it’s all my responsibility, got it?”

“But–”

“No buts!” He wanted to close the distance between them, wanted to wrap his arms around him, wanted to pull him in and hold him close and feel the warmth against him after those few days that had felt like an eternity. “This is my fault, dumbass. I lost my nerve. If I catch you trying to take the blame one more time I’ll kill you.”

“...okay.”

Another silence. Kimishita didn’t dare look at Kiichi’s face. There was so much he still felt, so much he wanted to say, but that would have to wait for later. He couldn’t get himself into the same dilemma again. This time he’d be wiser.

“Hey,” Kiichi said at last, his voice barely intelligible over the sounds of the street, “does that mean we can stay friends?”

His words shot Kimishita through the heart. A wave of sympathy and compassion crashed down over his head, so violent that it knocked the air out of his lungs and left him wanting to cry. Kiichi was so important to him, he realized. More important than he ever thought someone could be to him.

“Of course we can,” he grumbled, resisting the urge to pull Kiichi into an embrace and comfort him. “Just... no kissing. And... m-maybe not as many hugs either.”

Kiichi’s voice sounded disappointed, but he nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

What should he say? He didn’t want to part yet. He didn’t want to say goodbye when they had only just reunited!

But he could think of nothing, and so he sighed, slowly stepping around Kiichi and towards the next street. “Well,” he muttered, “see you at the bus then, huh.”

“Okay.” Kiichi sounded like he didn’t want to leave either, but he didn’t try to stop him. “Bye.”


	31. Departure

Kimishita was the first one waiting at the bus on the morning of New Year’s Eve. Of course he was. It had nothing to do with nervousness or impatience; if anything it was force of habit that always made him leave early for everything just in case he got delayed on the way there, that and pride in his perfect record of not a single late appearance in his entire academic career. Perhaps showing up later would have been a better choice considering the biting cold and the snow that had once again started to fall, but old habits really did die hard, and compared to how he had felt a handful of days ago he really didn’t mind standing around here and being alone with his thoughts for some time.

The past days had been okay. From the perspective of anyone else that wouldn’t sound like much, but in all honesty Kimishita was glad they had been. Seeking Kiichi out and talking to him really had been the right choice. He was glad they were friends again, even if it had taken him some time to get rid of the need, the craving that had lingered in his mind after abruptly cutting their meeting short that day. But the guilt, the worries, the questions had faded, as had the heavy, crushing feeling on his ribcage, pulling him down and weighing on his thoughts until he could think of nothing else but Kiichi. He still caught himself thinking about him sometimes. No, often. But the past few days he had focused on so many other things, studying for school, helping around the house and helping organize the neighborhood New Year’s celebration his father and everyone in the street were planning to have tomorrow night while he was off celebrating with Seiseki. It had been a bunch of productive days. He had never paid much attention to it before, but he had definitely missed his motivation when he had fallen into that hole after Christmas.

And now... now it was time for nationals, and even if he was tense he couldn’t wait to get started. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but right now he actually felt like he could go out there and simply play soccer with no regrets.

The snow continued to fall, and Kimishita retreated between the parked buses, carefully placing his bag down in a snow-free spot and sitting down on it after double-checking that he wouldn’t sit on anything fragile. He still had half an eternity’s wait ahead of him, might as well make himself comfortable as he stayed here with nothing to do and enjoyed the momentary break and the silence. Nothing to do for the moment. Nothing to worry about. No one to annoy him. Another reason why he loved being everywhere early.

Tsukamoto was the first to arrive after him, slithering into the parking lot on the thin layer of snow and somehow managing to not break his neck in spite of the slippery ground. Looking around, he found that he couldn’t spot anyone he knew, checked his watch, checked what Kimishita could only presume to be the meeting spot and time on his phone, and proceeded to mutter to himself while staring at something on the screen, resigning himself to waiting. He had barely been waiting a minute when Kazama came skateboarding onto the parking lot – actually  _skateboarding_ , in this snow; it was enough to almost make Kimishita jump out of his comfortable spot to yell at him for risking his damn life like this. But for the time being he was quite content leaving Kazama and Tsukamoto to themselves, acting all happy and affectionate and obnoxiously  _flirting_  right before the match. Well, content enough until their voices started getting on his nerves, anyway.

“You’re late,” he interrupted the lovebirds, watching as they spun around in utter surprise, taking him in for the first time. Kazama started to laugh. Tsukamoto, at least, had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“Kimishita-senpai!” he blurted out, visibly startled, and only Kimishita’s soft spot for the kid kept him from replying with  _No shit._  He didn’t, though. The poor boy had enough on his plate with his anxious nature and the tournament coming up.

“So loud, even this early in the morning,” he grumbled instead, standing up and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Had the people from his own grade also been this loud and annoying at that age? He definitely didn’t think so– oh wait. Kiichi. Never mind. They had been a nightmare after all.

_Never mind him,_  he told himself, and thankfully the thought really didn’t linger on his mind this time. What was important right now wasn’t Kiichi, it was soccer and the upcoming nationals. Matches over matches. Matches against the most powerful high school-level opponents in the country, the strongest teams and players. Matches they couldn’t lose. They had come this far, and damn it, he would break his own back if it meant that they could go back to Seiseki with the cup and the title.

And damn it, he would expect the same from his teammates. Teammates he couldn’t go without on this stage. He couldn’t carry this team alone. He... would have to rely on people. He would have to put some trust in them, or else they would be lost.

Well, he thought, trusting people sometimes wasn’t so bad after all. The past few weeks had proven that over and over again, pain and heartbreak notwithstanding. It didn’t hurt to reach out, and it didn’t hurt to rely on others. On the contrary, he wouldn’t have made it until Christmas without losing his sanity if he hadn’t done it.

And it wasn’t like he ran the risk of catching feelings for his entire team, right?

Kazama and Tsukamoto were still looking at him as if they thought he wanted to say something. And he did, he realized. He would need them both in whatever matches the tournament had in store for them. Might as well say so.

“Listen up, brats. Usually it’s fine to get in everyone’s way,” he said, pointedly looking at them both and not Tsukamoto alone; the kid would refer that sentence to himself regardless, no need to cause him unnecessary panic. “But don’t think I’ll let you get away with fuck-ups this time.”

Narrowing his eyes, he placed his hands on his hips, gazing at the first-years head-on as he readied himself to push down his pride, only to find that he didn’t need to. There was nothing shameful about telling these two they were necessary for the team. It was just what it was, a truth they deserved to know.

“If we want to win,” he declared, not letting the two out of his eyes, “the presence of you two is essential. So...” He lowered his head slightly, still not breaking his gaze. “Lend me your power.”

For a short, quiet moment neither of the first-years said anything, simply gazing up at him with wide-eyed surprise in their faces. Then Kazama smiled, and Tsukamoto clenched his fists with iron determination. “Yes!”

Yes, Kimishita thought, and for a heartbeat he almost caught himself smiling back. He could count on these kids in this tournament, and all of next year, and the year after that he could rely on them to carry on the legacy of their upperclassmen. It was good that they were here.

But just when he had almost made up his mind to allow a little smile the sound of an engine roared into the parking lot, shortly followed by a shiny white gas-guzzling abomination more commonly known as a Mercedes Benz limousine, coming to an abrupt halt only a few feet from where the three of them stood. The driver’s door opened, and out stepped an unfortunate-looking man in a black suit, carrying what resembled a student’s bag more than anything. He adjusted the strap, glanced down, adjusted it again, and opened the back door of the car, through which emerged a figure Kimishita and the first-years recognized at once.

“Let me know if you need anything, young master,” the driver... butler... whatever this unfortunate man was said as he handed Kiichi his bag. “Take care.”

“Sure,” Kiichi said as if this procedure was the most common thing in the world, and Kimishita suddenly felt the spontaneous urge to hit something with a brick. Preferably his own face. Or Kiichi’s.

Well, he thought with a glint of relief, at least he could be annoyed and embarrassed at Kiichi again. He supposed that was a sign that things were getting back to normal. On his end, anyway... and yet he couldn’t help tensing. When Kiichi spotted him, how would he respond? Would things be awkward between them after all?

Kiichi watched his driver disappear back into the car and drive off with screeching tires, then he turned, taking in the trio in front of the bus with one glance and putting on an infuriatingly friendly expression. “Thanks for coming to receive me.”

Kimishita had the vague feeling that he might mean every word, and it took him all his willpower to not launch his damn bag at that insufferably stupid face. “Shut your mouth!” he snapped. “With all the hot air you spout you’ll soon be responsible for global warming!”

And yet, as he yelled at Kiichi the same way he always did, he couldn’t help the giant unseen weight tumbling down from his chest. Things weren’t awkward between them. Kiichi was acting normal. Whatever had gone wrong between them at the beginning of this break was over now, history, and they could go on exactly the way they had always been. It wasn’t the same as in the days before Christmas. But all that mattered for now was that somehow, as much as he could hope for right now, he had Kiichi back.

Grumbling to himself, he stuffed his hands in his pockets again and watched as Kazama poked fun at Kiichi’s riches and Kiichi went the same shade of pink he always went when people mentioned his parents’ money. Except... something was off. That scarf...

The realization shot through Kimishita like lightning. The scarf. He was wearing the Christmas scarf!

_Don’t think about it. Don’t look at it. Don’t let it show._

Putting on his most irritable scowl, he turned towards Tsukamoto, still shooting Kiichi a pointed glare from the corner of his eye. If they were back to roasting each other, he was game. “Remember this, Tsukamoto,” he growled. “In this world you’ll only make money if you’re an idiot.”

Tsukamoto looked back and forth between him and Kiichi, taken aback and visibly confused. “Eh,” he stuttered out, looking as though he wanted to disagree but didn’t have the courage. “I-Is that so?”

Kimishita didn’t bother replying, and thankfully he didn’t have to. Raised voices interrupted their banter, shortly before the first-year idiot trio marched onto the scene themselves, all together and noisy as usual. Tsukamoto and Kazama were quick to join them as the whole group of loud and annoying but somehow dear brats dissolved in joking and shouting and laughter, leaving Kimishita and Kiichi as the only ones outside.

His heart skipped a beat. Just the two of them left standing on the side, not taking part in the group’s conversation. What now? Should he say something? It would be awkward not to say anything, especially after making up. But what should he say? He wasn’t one for small talk, and he definitely wouldn’t discuss anything personal here in public. Should he say something about the upcoming tournament? But perhaps it would be better to wait for Kiichi to say something first, after all–

Before he could make up his mind, however, another voice rang over the parking lot, and the first-years fell silent as the third-years from the dorm joined them, Haibara in the lead, the rest following behind. Butterflies fluttered up in Kimishita’s stomach. Mizuki... Mizuki should be here too, shouldn’t he? All the other third-years were here... and yet, as much as he searched, he couldn’t spot the captain no matter how much he tried.

Something cold sank in his chest. Something was wrong here. Where was Mizuki? Was he not with them? It didn’t make sense. He should be. If he wasn’t... where was he?

He wouldn’t be getting to nationals some other way, would he? He would be on the bus with them... right?

It was a stupid fear, Kimishita knew. It wasn’t like anyone had said anything about Mizuki not being able to take part in the tournament or some other scenario he didn’t dare think about. Even if Mizuki really did have his own way of getting there, who cared? They’d seen each other soon enough... and yet the very prospect of not seeing him on the bus when he had fully expected to see him was incredibly, painfully disappointing.

Not that he would jump to conclusions, he reminded himself. For the time being he wasn’t giving up hope. Mizuki might just be late or have some other explanation for not showing up with the others. The third-years would know if something was wrong, he thought, and the third-years seemed as happy and energetic as ever. Everything would be fine. No need to get frustrated or disappointed for such a stupid reason.

But more and more people showed up, and still no trace of Mizuki. Coach Nakazawa appeared with Ubukata, rallying them all together, and still no trace of Mizuki. It was almost time to leave. Seriously, where was he?

“Everyone is here, right?” Nakazawa said through chattering teeth, and Kimishita was one ounce of pride and self-restraint away from protesting. Everyone was very clearly not here. One of the most important people– the most important  _players_ , he corrected himself, was missing. But how would he look if he said that?

“Well,” Tsukamoto piped up, raising his hand and speaking out Kimishita’s concerns, “Captain Mizuki has yet to...”

Kimishita made a mental note to repay the kid sometime. He really was a lifesaver sometimes.

Nakazawa’s eyes snapped open, a look of irritable shock crossing his face. “Him again?” he burst out, shortly followed by, “Wait, Usui, what are you–”

“Ah, if it’s about Mizuki...”

Without missing a beat the vice-captain had started walking towards the bus, stepping up to the door and opening it to reveal a familiar figure.

“He’s been in the bus since yesterday,” Usui explained casually, perfectly unfazed by the image of Mizuki brushing his teeth in one of the bus seats. “It was so he wouldn’t be late.”

Kimishita wasn’t sure who he wanted to facepalm more at, Mizuki for being so ridiculous or himself for worrying for absolutely no reason. What had he been fretting about? There Mizuki was, looking stupid as usual with that toothbrush in his hand, muttering a “Morning” as the others greeted him with excitement. Of course he was there. They were all complete. And he... well, irrational as it was, he was feeling a lot lighter already.

"Anyhow,” Nakazawa said as they all crowded together in a large circle in front of the bus. “All fifty-seven of you have assembled. That means we’re ready to start.” He glanced towards Mizuki. “Your turn, Captain.”

Mizuki turned his head to glance back at the school, silent and deserted for the break, and Kimishita didn’t have to look into his head to know what he was thinking. When he turned back there was a look of determination in his eyes, calm but powerful and contagious to the core. “When we get back here this time,” he said in a quiet voice that still carried across the parking lot with ease, “let’s do it with the championship cup.”

That was all he needed to say. They knew the rest. They understood.

“Alright!” someone shouted, and the rest of the team joined in like one big, powerful voice, full of fire and passion and stubborn, determined energy. “Seiseki, let’s go!”

They were ready to win this thing. No, they were eager. They were itching to go, hungry for the win, and they wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t stop until the championship was theirs. They could do this, and they would. And just for the moment that was all that mattered to them in the world.

\---

The bus ride was quiet and uneventful. Kimishita sat with Suzuki like he always did on team trips, and as usual they didn’t speak much. Still, Suzuki’s presence was somehow calming. They weren’t close enough for Kimishita to consider him a friend, but they were on good terms, a reliable pair for everything that involved Kimishita’s eternal nightmare of pairing up. Suzuki was nice to be around. Unlike the others in their year he wasn’t loud or brash or annoying in any way but wonderfully serious, quiet and polite, serious and quiet and polite enough to not drain Kimishita’s battery the way most people did. And right now, with everything that was going down between him and Mizuki and Kiichi, it was a relief to not need to sit with either of them.

Still, he and Suzuki were sitting in the same row as Satou and Kiichi, Satou and Suzuki in the middle, he and Kiichi at the windows. Close enough to observe each other keenly, maybe even talk, but definitely at a safe distance and out of touch. Kimishita wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit closer to Kiichi or further away. On one hand he was glad not to have him right next to him like he had been in middle school, dozing off and snoring and possibly falling asleep on his shoulder again. Back then had been bad enough, sending his stomach fluttering and his heart racing, and he honestly didn’t want to know what might happen now that he was still unstable in his emotions. And yet the other part of him wanted him close. The other part of him was starved for their interactions, unsatisfied with their brief exchange a few days back and their short-lived bickering earlier. He had grown so used to having Kiichi next to him, only a touch away. And part of him wanted that back.

Well, whatever. He couldn’t afford to be thinking about that now. Kiichi wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon any more than he was; he’d have plenty of time to figure out all this convoluted nonsense after the match, after the tournament. For now he should forget about it and focus on the important things, the challenges that lay so closely ahead of them all.

Not that he was scared. He was in his best shape, and so were his teammates. Tense he was, granted; but he knew well enough that a little tension, a little adrenaline would only help him achieve peak performance, and it would be more concerning if he was too relaxed and made mistakes. He was ready to go out there, ready to play. Ready to show himself to people from the entire country watching in the stands, cheering for Seiseki and shouting his name.

It had been way too long. Too long since he had last stood on a national stage, too long since the Tokyo selection team. He was back. And this time he was stronger than ever. This time he wouldn’t lose the way he had before... no. Not he.

_They_  wouldn’t lose.

From the corner of his eye he glanced at Kiichi, who had been abruptly shaken awake by a bump in the road and who was now gazing out through his window, seemingly lost in thought. Kimishita wondered if he was thinking the same thing as him– no, he was sure of it. He had to be feeling the same, reliving the same memories, the wins and the losses and all the stories in between, the giant stage, the feel of something bigger, something greater... and the crushing defeat that had brought their middle school soccer career to an end. He had to be remembering all their failures and arguments, the resolves, all the times they had scraped themselves back together for the sake of the team despite still projecting their own frustrations with themselves on each other. He knew what it was like to be back here every bit as much as Kimishita did. Even more so than Mizuki, who had only been a first-year and a beginner the last and only time he had gone to nationals.

They would need to carry the team, he thought. They, who had so much experience with national tournaments, would need to form an even stronger duo than usual, putting aside any and all differences and complications and charging ahead as one, leading the ones who were newer to all this. They wouldn’t have to do it alone, thankfully. But they would need to function together like clockwork, merge together until they were only one mind, one heart pulsing on the field.

Maybe, he thought, that meant it was about time to make Kiichi more than the eternal decoy, too. Now that they were back on the big stage together...

Maybe it was time to score a goal together again. Just like old times.


	32. Combination

This time, Ooshiba thought, this time would be different.

Everything about this situation was bringing memories back. Memories, recollections from years ago, returning to his head in vivid detail, feeling so real he almost thought he was there again. He remembered the last time he had played in a national tournament, back in middle school, not even realizing how special it was to everyone who didn’t have the fortune of playing for a pre-selected team representing their city or region. He remembered the excitement, the joy of being on such a big stage already, in the spotlight; the ultimately feeble hopes of being discovered by talent scouts and becoming the first player in the country who got signed for a pro team before even entering high school. He remembered the tiresome, draining hours of practice, all culminating in the green of the pitch, the blue of the sky, the feel of grass under his soles and the ball against his feet, calling to him, goals waiting to be scored, glory to be reaped. He remembered the shouts, the tackle-hugs, the laughter and victory celebrations every time they won against a tough opponent.

And he remembered the pain. He remembered the losses, the failures. The renewed, desperate hopes that next year, next year they’d definitely make it further and take the title.

He remembered his third year of middle school. No,  _their_  third year, he thought as he glanced in Kimishita’s direction. Their last chance to make it to the top with their team; their last chance, he had thought, before parting ways and playing against each other in high school. He remembered the unspoken agreement that had hovered in the air between them in the weeks before the tournament, the way they had shut down all the arguments they usually would have broken into before they could happen. Hours of staying behind, just the two of them, working on their combination, perfecting every detail until not even Kimishita could find fault with it anymore. The smiles, the fist bumps every time they succeeded at something particularly difficult. The first time Kimishita agreed to call him Kiichi. The breaks spent lying with their backs on the grass, catching their breaths and staring at the clouds together.

And then  _he_  had to come and make all that fall to pieces.

Ooshiba didn’t remember his name. He barely remembered what team he had been on. But never, never in his life would he forget his face or the crushing defeat he had dealt to them.

It was all so alive in his mind, so alive that it took him all his strength not to curse and yell out loud, bitter frustration oozing from his wounds as they tore open once more. Of course he remembered. He remembered everything. The heat of that day, the blue sky, the burning sun. Their flawless victories up until that match, their pride, their squabbles as soon as the tension fell off their shoulders. And then... that match. That player. The same age as them... and yet an undefeatable monster.

He remembered the look on Kimishita’s face as that guy passed him, stole the ball and passed him so quickly he never stood a chance. He remembered the pang that shot through his heart, the way his body moved on its own, throwing itself in the guy’s way with all he had, using strength he didn’t have left, a desperate last stand in a feeble attempt to save the day and be a hero. No use. That guy had passed him with ease, dashed by him as if he was barely there, and all hope had been lost. It was over. That tournament had been their last match with the team, and it had ended like that, unceremoniously defeated like the faceless masses no one would remember.

Ooshiba closed his eyes, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat as all the details he had hoped to forget replayed in his mind. The final whistle, the scoreboard that cemented their loss, their opponents’ celebrations while there was nothing left for them except walking off the pitch with their heads hanging low, no strength left in their limbs and no joy in their minds. The way Kimishita avoided all eyes, balling his hands into trembling fists and gritted his teeth in a way that made it all too clear he was blaming himself. He was wrong, of course, no one knew that better than Ooshiba. It had been Ooshiba’s fault. If only he had been a little stronger, a little faster, a little smarter, they could have turned it around. How much he had wanted to apologize to him back then, yell at him to snap out of it and stop blaming himself because he had done great, he was amazing and he shouldn’t let anyone make him think otherwise. But his throat had been so tight he couldn’t get a word out, and all he could do was watch as Kimishita changed out of his jersey with his face to the wall, only his trembling shoulders revealing how hard he was trying not to cry.

But Kimishita hadn’t shed a single tear that day, not in front of the team, and Ooshiba had the feeling that it had been the same at home where he had been unobserved. He had taken their loss and turned it into new resolve, practicing free kicks until the sun was long gone and everyone else was back home, never pausing, never stopping until his father finally dragged him away. He had stood proud in the face of defeat even as he drove himself to his limits and beyond, and Ooshiba had never quite managed to shake the feeling that he hadn’t only done it to keep his mistake from repeating and let out his frustrations, because he had felt like he didn’t deserve to rest.

If only things hadn’t turned out that way. If only Ooshiba had managed to stop that guy back there and give the team their courage back. If only he had managed to take a bit of the load from Kimishita’s shoulders, the responsibility, the blame he always insisted on carrying alone, if only he could have gone without disappointing his hope and trust. If only he could have done something, anything to keep Kimishita from uttering the last words he had ever said to him in middle school.

“Our combination was too weak.”

And then high school happened, and Kimishita had ignored Ooshiba completely in favor of Mizuki. Mizuki, who was stronger, more skilled, more talented, in whom Kimishita saw something Ooshiba didn’t have. Mizuki, who had taken over his spot and stood between him and Kimishita like an unsurmountable fence.

That cut had taken too long to grow back together, that wound too long to heal. They had only just made it back into a team, a proper combination, even if most of the time he was still only the backup or the decoy for passes meant for Mizuki. These were their first nationals since middle school. And damn it, even if it broke him, even if it drained him to the last drop, even if it killed him, this time would be different. He would make it different. He would keep history from repeating himself. This time, he thought, this time he would do what he had failed to do back then. At any and all cost.

This time he would be the hero he had failed to be that day.

\---

Peace and quiet at last.

Kimishita sighed, sitting back on his bed and closing his eyes. It was only for a moment, but at long last he could relax, neither teammates nor strangers bothering him for the moment. Throughout the opening ceremony he had been a bundle of raw nerves; not for the obvious reasons so much as the fact that their team was led by Mizuki, a living invitation to embarrass them all in front of representatives from the entire country. And then there was their upcoming match with Yuigahama to worry about, with their strong defense and, most worrying of all, whatever history they shared with Kazama. He’d have to keep an eye on him tomorrow, he thought. There was no guarantee that he’d be able to play the way he usually did, and Kimishita definitely didn’t want to go into the case that he let his backstory affect him unprepared. Worst case he’d have to cover for him, or they might have to sub him out and replace him with Tsukamoto, who, improving as he was, had only been playing for a handful of months and probably wasn’t ready for this yet. Kimishita sighed. He wasn’t cut out for looking after all these forwards and their personal issues. What was he supposed to be, the team babysitter?

Well, he thought, that was the downside to his position. The upside was that he enjoyed the responsibility, no matter how much it stressed him out. Responsibility meant being needed, it meant making a difference, and that was why he would take it over and over, no matter how annoying getting caught up in the team’s struggles and personal drama was to him.

“Fired up for tomorrow?”

Kimishita almost jumped out of his skin. “Suzuki,” he burst out as soon as he had regained his breath. Damn it, how did this guy always manage to sneak up on him and pop up out of nowhere like he was some sort of junior version of Usui Yuuta?

“Oh, did I startle you? Sorry about that.” Suzuki placed his bag down next to the free bed and started rummaging through it, unpacking his things. “You were looking so happy, I figured you might be thinking of something nice.”

Kimishita went pink, clamping a hand over his mouth as if he had been caught doing something forbidden. Why was he so embarrassed, anyway? It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with  _smiling!_

“By the way,” Suzuki said after a moment of silence, fiddling with the drawer on his side of the room. “You won’t have any problems with the forwards in tomorrow’s match anymore, will you?”

Kimishita choked on air.

“What the–” he spluttered, flushing scarlet. “Wh– What are you implying, huh?” He tried to scowl, but the heat burning from his face betrayed him. “ _Anymore?_  I never had any problems with the forwards to begin with!”

Suzuki looked up from the drawer, raising his eyebrows just enough to be noticeable. “Really?”

“O-Of...” Damn it, why did Kimishita feel like he was made of glass and Suzuki’s dark eyes were staring straight into him? “Of course.”

“Okay,” Suzuki said and returned to unpacking. “Sorry for assuming, then. Befor the break it just looked like something happened beetween you and Ooshib–”

“ _Nothing happened!_ ”

Suzuki turned around to stare at him, and Kimishita found himself realizing that he had lashed out a little too strongly for his words to be believable.

“I mean...” His face was turning redder and redder and redder with every passing second. “Nothing special happened. Kiichi and I fight all the time, did you forget that already?”

Suzuki gazed at him for another moment, then he turned back to the drawer as if all this was no big deal. “So it was just another fight? Okay then. I just got the impression that it might’ve been something more serious, but good to know I was wrong.”

Blushing and scowling, Kimishita continued to glare at his back. This, he thought, this was the part of Suzuki that stressed him out to no end. Serious as he seemed, he was also infuriationgly perceptive, constantly asking much too accurate questions with the most innocent face. Kimishita had no idea if he actually meant those questions or if he was simply pretending to be innocent to get things out of him, and that part freaked him out beyond measure.

Well, whatever. If Suzuki wanted to worry about tomorrow’s match, he would leave that to him. Kimishita himself wasn’t afraid. He knew there was nothing more to worry about, not on Kiichi’s end. They were back to getting along. The drama between them was gone, at least for the time being. They were back to the insufferable bickering duo who had each other’s backs at any and all times, ready to stand up to any challenges on the pitch. And Kiichi was growing. Sooner or later he would catch up to Mizuki at this rate, perhaps even overtake him, and not even Kimishita could fathom how quickly that could happen. Perhaps still during this tournament, he thought. Perhaps over the course of the next year. Because in that one year, he thought, Seiseki’s legendary forward-midfielder combination wouldn’t be called Kimishita and Mizuki anymore. It would be Kimishita and Ooshiba. Just like old times.

They should definitely reactivate their old plays, he thought. People would be expecting him to play mostly with Mizuki, and especially against Yuigahama, with Kazama too. But he knew better than anyone that sometimes, just every once in a while, it was good to have an ace up his sleeve.

\---

“Hideki.”

Groaning, Satou rolled over, lifting his head from the pillow to squint at his roommate in the dark. Truth be told, he didn’t want to respond. It was late in the evening, they had a match tomorrow, and damn it, after all the traveling and ceremonies and strategy discussions and running today, he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. But oh well, he was a good friend, and of course he couldn’t simply ignore Ooshiba and be a jerk. Whatever he wanted to say had better be short.

“What?”

“You awake?”

 _Right back at you,_  Satou thought, but he didn’t say it. “If I wasn’t awake, I wouldn’t be talking to you, stupid,” he answered around a yawn. “What’s the matter, can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.” Ooshiba shifted under the blanket, squirming as if he was struggling to work up the courage to say something uncomfortable. “Hey, uh... can you... uh... d’you think...”

Satou straightened. That was odd. As someone who had been with him almost constantly for the past year and a half, of course he knew about Ooshiba’s hidden insecurities, but he also know that he rarely chose to show them, let alone mention him out loud. But the way he acted right now left no doubt; this was one of those moments, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uhm... I uh... fuck.” Ooshiba flopped face-first onto his pillow, wrapping his arms around it, his voice muffled by fabric and feathers as he continued to speak quietly and quickly. “Do you... think I’ve gotten better since I got into Seiseki?”

Satou blinked, half wondering if he had heard him wrong. He thought he knew all the insecurities Ooshiba had, but a fear of not improving had never seemed to be one of them. What had made this surface all of a sudden, he wondered? Had something happened?

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, continuing to stare at him in confusion. “I mean, everyone on the team has. It’s natural.”

“More... than Captain?”

Satou propped himself up. “Huh?”

“Have I improved more than Captain?”

So it was about envy again? That made at least a bit of sense. “Who knows,” Satou said with a noncommittal shrug, unwilling to admit that of course Mizuki had improved more, the only one who could possibly keep up with Mizuki’s improvement curve in high school was Tsukamoto, but their starting points had been completely different from Ooshiba’s. “Where’d that come from?”

Ooshiba didn’t answer for a long moment, so long that Satou almost caught himself wondering if he had fallen asleep. Then he groaned and shifted, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet, clumsy, as if a young child had taken over his adult body. “Dunno,” he mumbled. “Just wondering.”

Well, that had been a non-answer. Satou sighed. He didn’t know why he had expected anything else in the first place. “Okay, whatever.” He shrugged and lay back down on his pillow. “Anyway, should you really be asking me that? Go ask Kimishita, he knows you better–”

“ _No!_ ”

Satou gave a startled jolt. Ooshiba had abruptly sat back up on his bed, and even in the dark Satou could see the pallor, the horror-struck expression on his face. For a moment their gazes met, and then suddenly Ooshiba turned away, hiding his face like he was trying to hide a blush. “That’s, uh...” he mumbled in the general direction of the window. “I can’t ask him, he’s not gonna– that’s right!” He straightened up, and within a split second his trademark smug expression was back. “He wouldn’t tell me the truth ‘cause he’s jealous of my improvement, that asshole.”

 _So this is about Kimishita._  Satou stretched under the covers, the puzzle pieces falling together to complete the picture in his mind. Honestly, he should have seen it earlier. Things like this almost always had something to do with Kimishita; although Satou didn’t know the details, he had always had the impression that something was off between them, unconditional trust notwithstanding. Something, he thought, that Kimishita didn’t seem to mind much, but in Ooshiba it seemed to have developed some sort of inferiority complex that only showed itself around Kimishita and Mizuki. It was as if they’d had some sort of falling out between the end of middle school and the beginning of high school, and even now that they were more or less getting along again it was still hovering between them, unaddressed and unmentioned.

He wondered if Suzuki knew more. Suzuki and Kimishita weren’t as close as Satou was with Ooshiba, and Kimishita was a lot less communicative, but since the whole story also seemed to have mattered less to him there might be a higher chance that he might have casually mentioned it or let something slip. It was worth a try, and in any case they might find out more together; Suzuki’s near-uncanny ability to get secrets out of people just by asking the right questions and observing their responses could always come in handy. Together they had a chance to figure something out and keep an eye on the two idiots in case they needed help.

But all that could wait until tomorrow. Why, they should already be sleeping to begin with.

“Okay, okay,” Satou said around another yawn. “Then don’t ask Kimishita, whatever you want. Now go to sleep, or do you want to play tomorrow’s match with dark bags under your eyes?”

He had never seen Ooshiba disappear back under the covers faster.

\---

Leading. They were leading.

Ooshiba paused momentarily in his steps, catching his breath and letting his eyes roam over the pitch. Two goals ahead already, two goals ahead of Yuigahama, two goals closer to advancing to the next round. Voices rose from the pitch and the stand, shouting and cheering, celebrating with Haibara, who had scored the second goal, and Tsukamoto, who had assisted. All around him their teammates attacked the victorious duo with hugs and high fives, and even Ooshiba couldn’t help cracking a smug grin when he saw Hideki tackle Haibara from behind while Kazama simply grabbed Tsukamoto and launched him up into the air. These two had scored an awesome goal. And for Haibara, who was always busy defending and so rarely got to score, this had to be even greater.

But... he wanted to score too.

Feeling his breath even out, Ooshiba raked a hand through his bangs and stared wistfully at the goal. Even Haibara had scored, he thought. Haibara, who was a damn defender. It wasn’t even his job to score goals at all, but he had anyway. And then there was him. A forward... no, worse, the goddamn center forward, the very person who should score more than anyone, whose job it was to shine and attack and stand out the most. And yet here he was, the only forward whose last goal had been so long ago he wasn’t even sure when it had been, the only forward who didn’t even get the chance to score because no one would ever pass him the ball.

His hands balled up into fists, nails digging grimly into the palms. It wasn’t fair. If it was just him failing to score, he wouldn’t be complaining; the problem was that he never even got the chance to score, never got the chance to prove himself at all. Every time a pass came flying in his direction it went right over his head, and it turned out it hadn’t been meant for him but for Mizuki, only using him as a decoy to confuse the opponents. What the hell was he doing wrong? No, what the hell did  _Kimishita_  think he was doing wrong? He wasn’t the same as he had been at the end of middle school, dammit! Shouldn’t Kimishita of all people know that?

_Our combination was too weak._

Did Kimishita still think that? Did he still believe that they would fail the same way as back then if he passed to him? Even after everything? What was wrong with him? Was he blind? Or...

Did he not care for Ooshiba’s improvement because he’d rather play with Kazama and Mizuki?

Maybe it was that, he thought bitterly. Maybe Kimishita just didn’t care. After all, why should he bother with his vow to not let their team lose like he had back then? He didn’t even know that. And he didn’t need Ooshiba to score goals anymore, anyway.

All he needed him for now was as a decoy. A distraction.

Obviously, he thought. It was clear as day. Kimishita himself had told him before that everything about him made him the ideal decoy, taking away the opponents’ attention and allowing the others to score. Back then Ooshiba had eaten that up. Kimishita’s clever wording had made it sound like a good thing, and to his starved spirits it had felt like the praise he had needed so much, the encouragement he had looked for after his self-doubts and insecurities resurfaced full force. But now that he stood here, waiting for the game to resume, the true meaning of those words hit him like a splash of cold water over the head.

_Even on the pitch I’m never more than the fucking distraction, am I?_

And yet, he thought as the cheers dissolved and he started running after the ball again, he would still jump at every pass he thought might be meant for him. Because someday, maybe, one of them would actually be his, and when that moment came he would not let it slide through his grasp, would never allow it to pass him by. Kimishita’s passes were treasures, rare and far between. If he only missed a single one of them, it would be akin to losing a fortune.

Yuigahama regrouped. The ball went from player to player, back and forth and forth and back, then to Mizuki, finally back to Kazama. Twenty more minutes on the clock. Kazama dribbled across the pitch, fast and precise as a well-aimed arrow, dodging all his marks in one easy, fluid motion. Ooshiba ran alongside him on the side of the field. Just in case. Maybe Kazama lost the ball after all, or maybe he was stopped... and then. Then he would seize that chance and make it his, his alone, score a magnificent goal and show everyone just how much he had grown.

And after he did that, maybe, hopefully, he would start getting passes meant for him again too.

Kazama moved even faster. Ooshiba kept up. Yuigahama players tried to move into their way, obstruct them, block off the way between them to keep them from passing, but Kazama ignored them all. Never stumbling, never stopping, he dodged every attack and outran every defender, taking aim and shooting straight for the goal.

The ball performed a magnificent curve. Kazama and Ooshiba came to a skidding halt in front of the goal as the goalkeeper dived, but he never stood a chance. With a loud slamming noise the ball crashed into the net, and even before it could hit the ground the cheers broke out on all sides, drowning out any other sound.

Three-zero. They were three goals ahead, and the match was five minutes from ending. They had all but won now. It was Kazama’s second goal today, and nothing and no one could stop him.

The hero of today’s match... that wasn’t himself, Ooshiba thought. It was Kazama. Kazama, who was single-handedly deciding this match for them... who was doing everything Ooshiba had been hoping to do today.

He was happy for him, somehow. But even more than that he was frustrated. Frustrated that he couldn’t have been the one to do this, the one who kept scoring and scoring, the one who was on a roll and performed miracle after miracle by himself until people started calling him the hero of the match. What did Kazama have that he lacked? He wanted to score too. He could score if only someone sent the ball his way, damn it!

If only he got the chance to score just one goal today. One single goal. That was all he asked for.

“Don’t look down!” voices came yelling from Yuigahama’s side, exhausted but determined, desperate. “We can still run! We can still turn this around!”

The ball was back at Kimishita’s feet, and despite the heat glowing from his skin Ooshiba shivered. Something felt... off. Something was different, he could sense it.

Kimishita smirked, and suddenly Ooshiba knew. He didn’t know how. He just  _knew_.

Time came to a slow. Kimishita kicked the ball up in a high arch, deceptively light and precise. It glided through the air, coming closer and closer, and Ooshiba’s body moved without thinking.

The perfect height. The perfect spot. The perfect angle.

Yuigahama’s goalkeeper moved into his field of vision, trying to block the shot, but this wasn’t something he could just stop like that. This was his and Kimishita’s teamwork, their perfect combination. This shot was decided before it ever hit the net.

Ooshiba jumped, hit the ball with his head, and slammed it past the goalkeeper’s desperate hands straight into the goal.

For a second it was quiet, perfectly quiet as he hovered in midair, slowly sinking back down to the ground like a skydiver. His eyes were locked on the ball, bouncing off the net and rolling over the ground, wide and incredulous as he tried to process what was happening.

His feet touched the ground, and several things happened all at once.

Cheers broke out. On every side of him people were shouting, yelling his name, and he snapped back into reality as though he was waking from a trance. The reality of the situation came back to hit him full force. He had scored a goal. At nationals. A perfect header. No... he had scored a perfect header thanks to a perfect pass from Kimishita.

Euphoria swept over him in a giant crashing wave. “Goal!” he roared, louder than all the people in the stands combined. “Goal! My time has come at last! Kiichi’s first is the number one’s first!”

From all sides people came running to tackle him and high-five him and congratulate him, but Ooshiba’s attention only focused on one person. Not Kimishita; Kimishita he would thank later, in private. But as he stood there cheering and celebrating his own little victory he realized that this was the first match in forever where he had scored a goal and Mizuki hadn’t.

“Did you see that?” he shouted, giddy and triumphant and full of childlike energy, like a kid who had just scored his very first goal in a match. “A critical header! You’d never be able to do it!”

Mizuki was perfectly unfazed, returning his gaze with the same stoic seriousness as always, but for once Ooshiba couldn’t find himself caring. “Sure, show me later.”

Before Ooshiba could reply, the final whistle rang, and the next moment he found himself drowned by a flood of teammates tackling him from all sides.

He wanted to jump again. He wanted to leap into the sky with pure joy, grab all his teammates at once and crush them in one giant hug. It might only have been one goal, a goal that hadn’t even made a difference for the overall result of the match. But it had been  _his_  goal,  _his_  chance to prove himself, and it had been Kimishita’s pass that had allowed him to score, one of the perfect passes he had always treasured so dearly since middle school. Kimishita had trusted him with this pass, and he had lived up to that trust. They were still strong. Their combination wasn’t dead, and now that they were stronger they were back in the game once more.

Kimishita could have passed to Kazama again, or to Mizuki. They had both been free. But he hadn’t. He had chosen Ooshiba over them both, and even if it had only been one moment, right now that felt like the greatest victory in the world.

Because just for this match, this goal... just this once he had managed to beat Mizuki.


	33. Party

Kimishita watched the scene from the outside, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

If he thought about it, he had been playing it pretty safe with this decision. The match had already been decided, and no matter if Kiichi scored or missed, nothing short of a miracle could have changed that outcome. There had been no risk in passing him the ball, nothing to lose; all that had been at stake was another goal to add to their landslide victory. And yet, as he stood there watching all their teammates tackle and pile onto Kiichi like he was the man of the match, he couldn’t help feeling as if this pass and this shot had decided the game.

This had been the right decision, he thought. From the outside something like this should seem like no big deal, but Kiichi’s face was glowing, shining with joy, his eyes sparkling as he grinned from one ear to the next, unable to wipe the smile off his face even after minutes. To him this had been a big deal, Kimishita realized. To him that decision between passing and not passing, between being given or denied that opportunity to score had meant the world. And by sending him this pass Kimishita had managed to make his entire day.

Warmth spread through his stomach and chest, a gentle, tingling sensation that didn’t seem to fit in with his usual emotions at all. How... could he describe this feeling? Happiness, sure. Pride, too, although there was more to it today. He wasn’t happy for himself, and it wasn’t scoring or winning that he was proud of, or even Kiichi’s progress; if anything it felt more like he was proud to see Kiichi so happy, laughing and smiling and glowing as if someone had placed a budding sun right here into the middle of the icy cold stadium. He was happy to see Kiichi so happy, and he was happy to have made him so happy, happy that his decision had evoked such a big response, warm and excited and so incredibly, infinitely rewarding. Every praise Kiichi got from the others felt like praise for him too, and every bit of recognition might as well have been directed at him. Kiichi hadn’t been in the spotlight nearly enough lately. But that one goal had sufficed to make him appear on everyone’s radar on the spot.

_How do you like that, Kiichi? You don’t have to be only a decoy any longer._

Memories flooded him, not only from middle school, but also from their conversation after winning the prelims, the time Kiichi had pretended to prank him in a failed attempt at hiding how upset he was. As if he had ever cared about sharing his things with someone who was poor before. As if he was any good at faking a laugh.  _Although I kept waiting patiently the whole time,_  he had said back then,  _my time never came._ For the entire match he had waited and waited, and not once had Kimishita let him score, not once had he let him be a hero like he had always wanted. For an entire important match. Eighty long minutes. And not once had he complained.

Back then Kimishita hadn’t let it show too much, but it had got him thinking. Worried, even. After all, he had known Kiichi for longer than anyone else on this team, and he of all people knew how much being in the spotlight– no, being entrusted with a scoring chance meant to him. And he of all people knew about Kiichi’s impatience. How much self-restraint must it have cost him to get through an entire match without complaining or throwing a fit? And why on earth hadn’t Kimishita noticed any of that until he called attention to it?

All these questions had haunted him, and after that day he had started to pay closer attention to Kiichi as a player. Worries led to observations, and observations led to resolve, the decision to offer him more chances again, entrust him with more possible goals. Something he should have started doing much earlier, honestly. But at the end of middle school his only wish had been to cut ties with Kiichi as harshly as possible, and even when some ridiculous twist of fate had thrown them back together in high school he had been unwilling to reconnect with him, partly out of pride, partly because Mizuki really was the better player, partly out of the ridiculous desire to mend his still broken heart. And then feelings happened, and suddenly he had found himself so consumed by the desire to climb ever new heights with Mizuki that Kiichi and everyone else had ended up taking a backseat.

He had been irrational there, Kimishita knew that now. But he was back on track. He was making up for his past mistakes, and this had been the first step. The right step. The result of the match was proof for that, but most of all it was the joy on Kiichi’s face, the warm, giddy feeling stirring through his chest that left it beyond a single doubt. After all this chaos, wins, losses, fallouts, arguments, all this stupid, pointless, irrational drama, they were finally back on track again. And it wasn’t until now that Kimishita realized how much he had missed it.

They had scored together since getting into high school, of course. But that had been different. Kimishita couldn’t put his finger on it, but somehow passing to Kiichi had always felt a little troublesome, a choice out of necessity because no one better had been available. He had still trusted Kiichi, of course. But somehow passing to Mizuki, and later also Kazama, had always felt a little more natural, a little more comfortable. Maybe it had been the words he had said to Kiichi upon parting ways back in middle school. Maybe it was that the resolve to avoid Kiichi at all costs had ingrained itself in him long after his feelings passed, and he had subconsciously steered towards others instead. Maybe it had been disappointment in Kiichi’s work ethic, or maybe lingering frustration at their last loss in middle school. Most likely it was a mixture of all these reasons, standing between him and Kiichi like an invisible wall, and now that he stood there smiling at Kiichi and catching his smile back, it finally felt like that wall had broken down and disappeared like it had never been there.

He had missed this.

He had missed this.

He had missed this so much.

How had he never realized before how much he had missed all of this?

He must have been blind. But now that he had seen it, he wouldn’t let this go. This joy. This pride. This bond, the connection forged from years and years of training together, playing together, scoring together until they knew each other inside and out. It was his now. And he’d be damned if he gave it away.

\---

“Okay, you were amazing out there, we get it!” Satou called across the room. “Now stop smiling, it’s been two full hours already! It’s getting creepy.”

Ooshiba turned around, the big goofy smile still drawn across his face as if his features had been frozen in that expression and someone had forgotten to unfreeze them. His eyes were wistful and vacant, making it all too obvious that everything Satou had just said to him had completely flown over his head.

“Hey,” Satou tried again, getting up from his bed with a sigh and hitting him over the head. “Are you listening?”

Ooshiba blinked, the vacant look in his eyes fading a little as they zoomed in on Satou’s face. “Uh... huh?”

“I told you to stop smiling like that, dude, it’s creepy as hell!” Ooshiba only blinked at him, and Satou sighed. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re acting like you’re drunk!”

Ooshiba gazed at him for a long, long time, so long that Satou caught himself wondering if he had spaced out again. Then without warning he grabbed his shoulders, and before he knew what was happening Satou found himself launched up in the air and crushed in a pair of arms like some sort of human-sized teddy bear. “Hey!” he burst out, sending a light kick against Ooshiba’s shin. “I’m not your plushie!”

“But I’m so happy,” Ooshiba said with an audible grin, giggling with barely-restrained joy bubbling under the surface. “What am I gonna do, Hideki... I’m so happy!”

“Calm down, dude. It was only a goal!” Satou struggled feebly against the embrace. “And it’s not like you decided the match or anyth–  _ow!_  At least put me down normally, okay?”

Ooshiba’s idiotic smile had faded for the moment, replaced by an overly serious but no less alarming expression as he stared down at Satou, who was rubbing his ankle and cursing under his breath. “That’s not the point, Hideki,” he said with the unmistakable air of someone who thought very highly of himself for understanding something someone else didn’t. “I’m happy for a whole different reason.”

“Cool,” Satou said with a roll of his eyes. “Care to tell me?”

Crossing his arms, Ooshiba gazed down at him with a smug, self-satisfied smirk spreading over his face. “It’s ‘cause that pass was from Kimishita and–”

He stopped mid-sentence. The smirk on his face faded and disappeared as his entire body flushed an intensifying shade of pink.

“It’s ‘cause... uh... it was... uh...” His eyes were all over the place, looking at anything and everything in the room except Satou. “I’m happy ‘cause... this uh... makes me happy... and I got to, uh... heroic... be a hero... something... Shut up!” he snapped as Satou stared at him with growing confusion. “I’m just happy that asshole admitted I’m good enough for his shitty passes! It’s not like I wanted him to recognize me or something. His attitude was just annoying.” Satou opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Ooshiba turned around, still bright red and pouting like a five-year-old, and started marching towards the door. “I’m gonna go to the cafeteria. I uh... forgot my laundry.”

The door fell shut behind him, leaving a very baffled Satou behind.

“Forgot the laundry in the cafeteria?” he repeated. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

But it was probably best not to go after Ooshiba, and so he let him be. Not without asking himself what on earth was wrong with the poor guy, of course. Granted, he hadn’t scored in an official match since the early parts of the prelims, and of course he had to be happy that Kimishita of all people had passed to him, considering the damper that had been on their friendship and their teamwork alike for all of high school. It must have been a stroke to his ego, and more than anything he had to be happy to finally have his old teammate back, his midfielder who seemed to have turned his back on him after middle school. Still, was that a reason to go around smiling like an idiot for hours on end and spacing out and crushing Satou against his chest in a surprise hug and–

Wait a minute.

 _Crushing_...?

\---

Kimishita hung up, sitting back and gazing out through the window to enjoy the view from his room. Through the eyes of most people it wasn’t anything special; in fact, most of his teammates found it dull and perfectly ordinary, and even Kimishita himself had to agree that what he could see from here wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Still, it wasn’t every day that he could stay in a room on the fourth floor, and all these ordinary things looked so small, so  _different_  from this angle that he couldn’t help loving the view anyway. If it wasn’t darkening already he’d take a few pictures to show his father. Calling him just now had made him a little homesick, and as excited as he was for nationals, the thought of spending New Year’s Eve away from his only family couldn’t help feeling a little heavy and lonely in his chest.

At least his old man wouldn’t be lonely, he thought as he replayed all the preparations for the neighborhood party in his head. He, too, would spend the last evening of the year surrounded by friends, even if Kimishita had no doubt that he also felt a little weird about this. He knew his father, after all. Insist as he might that it was fine, Kimishita still hadn’t missed the tinge of sadness passing over his voice.

Well, that only meant that they would have to make this count. They’d have to keep on winning and winning so that their stay here, away from all their families, wouldn’t be in vain.

The door slid open, and Suzuki poked his head in, a bag of confetti in one hand, a family pack of cookies in the other. “The others are already downstairs,” he said. “Are you coming?”

Kimishita glanced at his watch. True enough, it was already later than he thought. Just a little over five more hours, and the year would be over. Another year going down in history, full of memories that would fade and disappear with time.

Damn it, this was what he hated about New Year’s Eve. Those quiet hours in between the years always made him way too melancholy. As much as he disliked gathering with the whole team, it was probably better if he wasn’t alone tonight.

“I’m coming,” he said, rising from his chair. “Lead the way.”

Suzuki nodded and gave him a slight smile, and together they walked through the corridor of the hotel and down the stairs to the lobby, where the others already sat gathered on every chair, couch, and inch of floor they had managed to find. Kimishita recoiled inwardly. The bright light and liveliness were inviting, offering a cure to his melancholy mood, but the voices were already stressing him out, much too loud and far too many for his liking. Too many humans, damn it. The very thought that he’d be stuck spending the next five hours crammed in here with all these noisy idiots was already giving him a headache.

“Kimishita!” Haibara’s voice shouted from one of the couches, bright and cheery as ever. “So you did show up after all!” He grinned from ear to ear. “Now you owe me a popsicle, Inohara!”

“Okay, okay,” Inohara replied from halfway across the room. “Which one do you want?”

Kimishita looked back and forth between the two of them, gaping in disbelief. “Did you... make a bet if I’d come?”

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea!” Haibara got up from the couch and clambered across roughly ten people to throw a playful punch at Kimishita’s arm. “Inohara said you might not show up since you’re such a party pooper. So I bet a popsicle that you would, and looks like I was right!” He laughed. “Thanks for not disappointing me! Want me to treat you to something in return?”

Kimishita shifted uncomfortably. “That’s–”

“Come on, don’t be shy! I’ll treat you to anything you wa–  _hey!_  That was my seat! Get back on the floor, you little bastards!”

Frowning, Kimishita watched as Haibara dropped everything and scrambled through a row of hurriedly dodging people to try and drag Kurusu and Nitobe off the couch, who had taken up his seat as soon as he had left it out of sight. Much jostling and shouting ensued, and a series of struggles later Haibara had his seat back while the first-years were left standing because someone else had taken up their spots on the floor. Kazama laughed at them from where he sat on one of the armrests, Kurusu threw an empty plastic cup at him, missed, and a short moment later the entire part of the lobby had fallen into chaos.

“Never mind them,” Suzuki said with the most unfazed look manageable in this kind of situation, leading them to a quieter part of the lobby. “Let’s wait till this settles down.”

“Could take a while,” Kimishita muttered as he sat down on the last free patch of floor, squeezed somewhere in between Satou, Suzuki, and at least three other guys from their grade. It was cramped and too warm and too loud, and despite his relief at not being alone Kimishita couldn’t help wanting to disappear back to his room. How he was supposed to survive the next few hours squeezed in among all these people was still beyond him.

The chaos around the third-year couch quieted down, and the noise fell down to a more bearable buzzing of voices. Snacks and drinks were passed around, and Kimishita helped himself to everything that came his way until he was full. All sense of time disappeared. He wound up talking to Satou and Suzuki, and before he knew it he was caught in the middle of an engaging conversation that quickly strayed from yesterday’s match to New Year’s traditions and their families to a series of anecdotes, which in turn brought them onto the topic of books. Kimishita relaxed. Talking with these two was actually kind of pleasant; it was rare for him to be able to talk to teammates without either feeling the urge to run or slam his forehead into the nearest brick wall, and he appreciated their smarts and their sanity. Perhaps he should try to spend time with them more often.

“Okay, guys!” Haibara’s voice rang across the room, interrupting their conversation at last. “Who’s down for a tournament of Uno?”

Kimishita rolled his eyes, but he was the first to stand. Uno was one of the few things where he was a near-undefeated champion on the team, and it was a matter of honor that he would defend his title. Getting to look down on all the smug bastards who challenged him and lost was an added bonus, of course. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone here would think of starting this game without instantly dragging him into it, of course.

Others rose from their seats, which were instantly occupied by others spreading out or jumping up from the floor, and all of them gathered in the middle of the room around a small table, where the third-years hurried to move all the cups and plates and half-empty snack packages to the side to make enough room for a card game. Someone produced a box of cards from somewhere, and Haibara started to shuffle them in his hands as he gazed over the participants who had gathered around, deciding on the matchups.

“Hmm... let’s see.” He stared very intensely at Kimishita, then at Kazama and Tsukamoto, then at Kiichi, then back at Kimishita, then at the rest of the group. “We’re an uneven number,” he said at last. “Mizuki, wanna join us?”

Mizuki straightened up where he still sat perched on the couch, pausing his chewing with his cheeks stuffed with food like a hamster, tilting his head in question. Haibara only waved the cards in his hand, and Mizuki gulped down his food and nodded.

“Okay, then you’re up against me! This is gonna be an easy win.” He grinned like someone who had just conjured up a plan for world domination. Kimishita felt a twinge of disappointment at not getting to play Mizuki, but somehow it was less strong than expected. “Then... let’s see, Shiba, you’re up against Tsukamoto, Kazama against Usui, and Inohara, you’re playing against Kimishita.” He clenched his fists. “Knock him off his throne, Inohara! You can do this!”

“Should you be this biased as the host of the tournament?” Usui remarked with an amused glint in his eye.

“But he always wins! Don’t you guys wanna see him lose too?” Haibara made an all-encompassing gesture. “Come on! It’s everyone against Kimishita!”

Kimishita only smirked in return, and the game was on.

Haibara managed to lose in the first round. How he had pulled it off against Mizuki of all people no one knew for sure, but somehow he must have been very inattentive or very, very unlucky. He shouted and cursed about it for a full minute, then from one second to another his attitude changed, his face turned dead serious, and he placed a hand on Mizuki’s shoulder as he declared, with the tone of an honorably defeated knight, “I’ll leave the burden of victory on you now. Defeat the evil for me, Mizuki! You’re carrying my spirit!”

Kimishita won against Inohara, of course, and he perked up when Haibara decided on the pairings of the second round and matched him up with Mizuki. Excitement fluttered in his chest. It was only a stupid card game that he was going to win anyway, and it was only a few minutes, but for a time where he hadn’t been spending nearly enough time with Mizuki, it was something. Maybe he should try to drag this game out a little... no, screw that. He’d sooner die of embarrassment.

Then they sat down across from each other, cards dealt, and Kimishita very quickly forgot about all feelings other than the continuously increasing frustration at Mizuki’s understanding of the rules. It was virtually nonexistent; his plays were erratic and nonsensical, not to mention against the rules half the time, and over and over Kimishita had to push back a card in his hand and yell at him that he couldn’t play this one here. Haibara’s loss made a little more sense now. Mizuki had simply driven him nuts with so many nonsensical plays that he had lost his nerve and screwed up.

Well, good thing Kimishita wasn’t Haibara, then. Time to get serious.

Roughly eighty-one yelled scoldings, two near-aneurysms and half an existential crisis later he had finally conquered the force of chaos, and Haibara was once again left yelling and cursing at Kimishita’s series of wins. Kimishita smirked his proudest undefeated champion smirk and stepped away from the table, his expression only wavering slightly when Mizuki gave him a thumbs-up and an acknowledging pat on the shoulder. He even managed to keep his blush in check, and the warmth of his touch didn’t linger for as long as it usually did.

If he thought about that a little longer, he would probably realize that might be more than a little worrying. But right now his mind was full of the game, his eyes darting back and forth between Kiichi and Kazama as they proceeded with the next match, playing out their cards with equally smug expressions. Tsukamoto was standing next to Kazama visibly restraining himself not to give any tips, rocking back and forth on his tip-toes as if this game actually meant something. Kiichi ignored them both, simply continuing to play and, after some back and forth, winning the round with ease.

“Okay, we have the finalists!” Haibara proclaimed, grabbing Kiichi’s wrist and lifting it up in the air in a forced gesture of triumph. “It’s Shiba against Kimishita! You carry all our hopes now, Shiba!”

Kiichi’s gaze met with Kimishita’s. Something seemed to crackle in the air.

A smirk made its way onto Kimishita’s face, and he scoffed, crossing his arms as he stared down his challenger. “So you think you can beat me at this, huh?”

Kiichi smirked back. “I’m gonna kick your ass so hard you’re not gonna know what hit you.”

“Oh yeah? Try saying that again when you’ve learned to kick the ball first.”

“The only balls I still gotta learn to kick are yours, asshole!”

“Well, at least I have some to kick!”

“Just ‘cause you got so many at the sto– wait. Did you just say I got no balls?”

“Except for the big soccer ball in your brain, apparently!”

“You wanna fucking go?”

“Calm down, you two,” Usui interrupted them both with a smile. “It’s only a card game, no need to pick a fight.”

They glared at each other and sat down. Kiichi gave a huff. Kimishita clicked his tongue. Then they both snorted, and Kimishita turned away in the attempt to hide a grin.

“And now,” Haibara announced to the entire lobby, “the grand finale! Will Shiba manage to overthrow the card game demon? Loser has to buy everybody drinks!” He shuffled the cards in his hands and dealt them out at a pace that wasn’t human. “May the battle begin!”

It was Kiichi’s turn to start, and the very first card he put on the table was a take-four one.

Cursing under his breath, he looked into his own cards to see if he had something, anything to follow it up with to make Kiichi walk straight into his own trap, but there was nothing. Damn it. Oh well, he thought, the game was only just getting started; and now that the idiot had already played out his strongest card, that could only mean he’d be easy prey from here.

He took four cards from the stack, glaring at Kiichi across the table and preparing himself for a normal game from now on, when he was hit with another take-four.

Now this, he thought as he searched his additional cards in the feeble hopes of countering the move, this was ridiculous. Just how lucky did the bastard have to be to get not one but two of those game-winning cards?

The next round was normal, or normal enough considering that Kiichi was in the lead now and infuriatingly smug about it. Kimishita scowled at him. He needed to catch up, and catch up he would. He always had. That laugh would disappear from Kiichi’s face soon enough.

Except... it didn’t. Kiichi had all the good cards, every single one of them, and soon Kimishita was left with both his hards full of cards that he couldn’t put down while Kiichi placed down his second-to-last card and then, at last, the final, winning one.

“I win,” he said smugly.

“And it’s Shiba’s victory!” Haibara proclaimed with the most infuriating grin on his face. “Too bad, Kimishita, but even you need to lose sometimes! Now, what drinks do you want, everyone?”

Kimishita narrowed his eyes. “You gave him all the good cards on purpose!”

Haibara laughed, but Kimishita could practically see his halo.

Grumbling to himself, Kimishita stacked his cards back together and placed them down on the table, rising and feeling his pocket for his wallet. Buying drinks for everyone... that would be a problem. He still had a few emergency bucks left, but there was no way he’d be able to afford everything these idiots wanted.

“I’m going,” he said in response to Haibara’s surprised face. “The next round’s on me.”

Haibara made a hectic gesture. “Whoa– Hey, I was kidding! You don’t actually have to buy everybody something!”

Kimishita shrugged and clicked his tongue. He was still irritated, and broke as he was, his pride wouldn’t let him admit he couldn’t afford such a cheap, simple thing as treating his teammates to a round of drinks. “I’m going,” he insisted. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Before the others could protest again, he scrambled through the rows of people and out into the quiet, dark, peaceful corridor.

Only to find a set of footsteps following him.

Kimishita stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and sighing as he turned around to face the intruder. Something anxious stirred in his chest, recognizing the owner of these footsteps even before his eyes did.

“What now?”

Kiichi didn’t answer at once. His eyes didn’t meet Kimishita’s. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, his features strangely softened by the dim light that still reached them from the lobby.

“I’m coming with you,” he muttered at last, pouting and shuffling his foot. “D’you mind?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “What for, idiot? I don’t need someone to hold my hand for the way from here to the vending machine!”

Kiichi jolted and blushed, and Kimishita could feel his own face heating up too. Damn it, why had he said that? After everything that had happened... was he an idiot, using such a phrasing in a situation like this? Was he  _trying_  to make the situation more awkward than it already was?

_This is... the first time we’re alone since we made up, isn’t it?_

A series of emotions fluttered through his chest in quick succession. Surprise, embarrassment, anxiousness, a faint flicker of joy and hope and excitement he couldn’t and wouldn’t comprehend. Why had he just thought that? What did it matter? It was him and Kiichi. They had fought and made up so many times before, and never had it been enough to truly damage things between them in the long run.

“I mean... forget it,” he muttered, turning back in the direction he was supposed to be heading in. “You want anything special? If so, just tell me and I’ll get it. No need to walk with me.”

“But you got no money.”

Kimishita’s head lashed around to glare at Kiichi over his shoulder. “I still have some left!” he snapped with a flush of embarrassment. “What’s your point, idiot? Mind your own business!”

Kiichi pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “I’m paying.”

Was he serious? “But I’m the one who lost,” Kimishita replied, torn between annoyance, embarrassment and a hopeful spark of gratitude. “You don’t have to get anything for anyone!”

“I wanna.”

Kimishita stared at him. Kiichi avoided his eyes. His hands were buried in his pockets again, his mouth pulled into a pout, his shoulders drawn up as if he was cold, making him look smaller than he was. It was the kind of expression that always made Kimishita want to pat his hair and tell him to act his age, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. All he knew was that Kiichi’s offer was genuine, and knowing the idiot, he wasn’t going to back down on this anytime soon.

And if the offer was genuine, who was Kimishita to say no to being treated to something and getting to save money?

“Fine,” he grumbled at last, starting off down the hallway with a click of his tongue. “As long as you behave.”

“Mhm.”

Together they walked along the dark corridor in silence, so close that their arms almost brushed together but never quite touching. It felt strange. The last time they had walked somewhere side by side in dim light there had been magic in the air, something warm despite the cold of winter, but the feeling now was different. Quieter, somehow, sparkling gently in the distance, always just slightly out of the reach of his hand. Something that, if he only got up and started to chase it, promised to grow and blossom into something incredibly beautiful.

He was so glad to have him back. He was glad they were walking together again in companionable silence, no troubles, no fights, no meaningless drama to keep them apart. It was the same thing he had always found in Kiichi’s company, that sense of safety and being home anywhere and everywhere, even on the greatest of adventures. But there was something else now, something stirring and nervous, searching for something new between them, a difference, a change. Things were different between them now, he could sense it. He didn’t know how. All he knew was that something felt odd, and he wasn’t sure if he should embrace it or run away while he could.

Was he still afraid of falling for Kiichi when he was with Mizuki? No, that wasn’t it. He was loyal to Mizuki, and whatever he had with Kiichi felt different from that. He didn’t understand it. But... somehow this was fine. For now, anyway.

There was no one at the vending machine when they reached it, and Kimishita pulled out his wallet to see how much he could afford. Damn it, he was poorer than he thought. But if he got three of–

A large hand in his vision stopped him, hovering barely an inch above his own. “I’m gonna do it,” Kiichi said in a voice that allowed no protests. “You want something too? They got candy bars with strawberry flavor.”

There he went again, being stupidly generous and more than a little embarrassing. “You’ll get them for me even if I say no, huh,” Kimishita grumbled. “Fine. If you insist.”

With an energetic nod Kiichi busied himself with the vending machine, bought an armful of drinks, and shoved an expensive-looking chocolate bar into Kimishita’s hand before spinning around on his heel and marching back into the direction they had come from.

Kimishita clicked his tongue and hurried after him. “What was that for?”

“What?” Kiichi asked back without looking at him.

“All the favors! Are you trying to bribe me, idiot?”

Kiichi stopped walking.

“Pass,” he muttered.

Kimishita scowled at him. “Huh?”

“Pass. Today.” Kiichi stared adamantly at the ground, but even in this dim light Kimishita could tell how red he was. “Uh... thank you.”

_So this is what it’s about, huh._

A smile made its way onto Kimishita’s face, and he sighed. “Idiot,” he said. “You don’t need to thank me for that. Just keep scoring goals when I send you the ball.”

Kiichi’s head shot up. His eyes were wide and shining, full of amazement and bright, sparkling hope. “You’re... gonna keep passing to me?”

This idiot. This moron. Only an utter imbecile, a complete simpleton could possibly get so excited about the prospect of being passed to. And yet Kimishita could understand. After what Kiichi had told him after the qualifiers, he understood perfectly.

“Of course,” he said with an unwilling sigh. “So you better not fuck up your chances.”

Kiichi grinned so brightly he might as well have turned into the sun again. “Okay!”

“Come on.” Kimishita threw a nudge at his ribs. “Let’s get back to the others before they send out a search party.”

But really, even if he didn’t want to show it, for the entire way back he couldn’t stop smiling himself.


	34. Dream

He was back in middle school, back on the day they had lost their last match.

The skies were dark. The rain was pouring down like a waterfall, soaking through his clothes, dripping from his hair onto his skin and running along his body in dozens of tiny streams. Every part of him was cold and clammy, but he barely registered it. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the wall in front of him, standing between him and the goal, trying to get in the way of the dozens, hundreds of free kicks he had sent towards it in the hopes that eventually the exhaustion would be enough to drive off his frustration and pain.

His insides were aching, tied into knots as every moment of the match replayed over and over in his head. Himself, trying and failing to stop that player. Kiichi, jumping into his way, furious and stubborn and desperate, with a look on his face as if he was out for personal revenge, a vendetta against the guy who had dared to pass his trusted midfielder. And still... nothing. No matter what they had done, nothing. No matter what  _he_  had done, no matter how much he had struggled...

He had failed the team. And he had failed Kiichi, too.

A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it without mercy. Enough of this nonsense. He wouldn’t cry. Crying didn’t help anyone. The only thing that truly helped was working harder to keep the same mistakes from happening again. So here he was, biting down on his emotions, kicking ball after ball after ball towards the goal in the dark and the pouring rain.

His body felt heavy. His legs were starting to wobble. He was cold and tired and shaking, and all he wanted was to go home and curl up in his warm bed and forget about everything that happened. But here he was, trying to hit the goal one more time, better, faster, more precisely. He could improve himself. He could do this. He just needed to keep at it.

The ball he had kicked slammed hard against the wall, and Kimishita stumbled forward, catching his breath. The ground was slippery under his feet. This was his second miss in a row... his fifteenth miss total. Too much. It was too much. He needed to improve... needed to get his accuracy to a hundred percent, no matter the circumstances... but how–

“You’re tired.”

Kimishita lifted his head. The voice in his ears was familiar, so very familiar, but... it shouldn’t be here.  _He_  shouldn’t be here.

He turned around, and standing in front of him, holding an umbrella over his head, was none other than Mizuki.

“You’ve worked enough,” he said gently, and his words sent a flood of warmth to his cold, hurting insides. “My grandfather always says you can’t learn when you’re tired. Let’s go home.”

Yes, he should. He really should. No... he could. He had been given permission. He was allowed to stop.

“Thank you,” he rasped out, resisting the urge to bury his face in Mizuki’s jacket and cling to him like a child until he felt safe and calm and comfortable once more. “Yes... let’s go.”

“ _Kimishita!_ ”

He stopped.

“Kimishita!” the voice called again, and before Kimishita knew it he had turned around, stepping out from underneath Mizuki’s umbrella and hurrying towards the rain-soaked, breathless figure standing in front of the goal.

“Kiichi!” he burst out, and suddenly his voice was clear, the lump in his throat gone. “Why are you– What are you doing here? You should be home!”

This was ridiculous. Kiichi hated practice, and he hated the rain. There was no way he would willingly come here, no matter the reason.

Shaking drops of rain out of his hair, Kiichi picked up a ball from where it lay next to the goal, taking aim and kicking it towards Kimishita, who took a leap to catch it with his foot. “I came back!”

“In this weather? Are you kidding me?” Kimishita clicked his tongue, but inside his chest a bud of hope had begun to grow, threatening to bloom into full-on joy and gratitude. “You’ll catch a cold, idiot!”

“I’m not gonna!” Kiichi shouted back, and for some reason Kimishita believed him. “Send me a pass!”

Something fluttered inside him. “What for?”

“I’m gonna score!” The wind picked up, the rain growing stronger. “If we score this one we can still win!”

Where... had all the people come from?

Why was their practice pitch suddenly surrounded by spectators? Who had put up all the seats, the stands? Where did all the shouts come from? And... why were they suddenly surrounded by soccer players on every side?

Why was he... getting another chance?

“Pass!” Kiichi shouted, and suddenly Kimishita knew exactly what to do.

This power. This angle. This direction.

His foot connected with the ball, and it flew in a perfect curve towards Kiichi, who hit it with his head and slammed it directly into the net.

Cheers erupted on every side. Teammates came running up to them, offering high fives and tackling them with hugs, and suddenly Kimishita felt it. He felt it. He felt it with every fiber of his being, the very emotions he had thought had left him. The loss, the frustration was gone. The only things left in his heart were joy and hope and neverending gratitude.

Kiichi gave a roar of victory, and Kimishita joined in. Pumping their fists and grinning from ear to ear, they freed themselves from their teammates and leaped at each other, Kiichi catching Kimishita in his arms and launching him up in the air, holding him high like a trophy. The rain poured stronger than ever. Water began to gather on the ground, covering the grass, then their feet, then enveloping both of them as if they were on the ground of an ocean, only the two of them, too enveloped in their joy to care when everyone else was gone.

“We can turn it around, huh,” Kimishita said, somehow able to breathe perfectly fine underwater.

“Not just can,” Kiichi replied. “We’re gonna.”

Something bright glinted up in the dark floods of water, heading closer and closer until Kimishita could see what it was. Flitting in and out of sight, catching the flickers of light that managed to fall down through the sea above them, glimmering yellow and orange... a goldfish, close enough to catch.

Kimishita reached out his hand, but the goldfish evaded him. He tried again, but once again he couldn’t do it, the fish slipping away inches from his palm, a third time, a fourth. Losing balance, he slid out of Kiichi’s grasp, sinking to the ground, still chasing the glint of gold with his hand for a reason he himself didn’t know. All he had was the feeling that if he caught this fish, this bright, inviting, golden glimmer, they would seize victory for sure.

“Here.”

Kimishita stopped in his movements. The goldfish slipped away and disappeared into the darkness. Wriggling in front of him, held tightly in place by Kiichi’s large hands, was a fully-grown koi carp.

“Wha–” he spluttered out, gaping at the fish, then at Kiichi, then back at the fish. “How did you–?”

“I caught it.” Kiichi shoved the fish towards his chest. “It’s for you.”

Kimishita stared at the koi in his hands. It was bright gold, just like the goldfish, but it was rarer and much, much bigger. If the goldfish had been a spark of hope, this was a promise, a certainty that somehow, even if he didn’t know how or why, things would be all right. No, more than that. Much more.

So much more that he didn’t even feel bad about letting the goldfish escape when he reached out and took the koi from Kiichi’s hands. “Thank you.”

Kimishita opened his eyes.

For a moment he thought he was still at the bottom of the ocean. Then he blinked, and little by little the dark hotel room faded into his vision.

_A dream, huh,_  he thought as he tried to roll over and reach for his phone to check the time, only to find that he’d fall off the bed if he did. He had fallen asleep curled into a cramped position, squeezed in between three others, someone’s knees poking uncomfortably into his side under the blanket. Kimishita had no idea who it was; it was too dark and chaotic. Whose room was this, anyway? All he remembered was getting swept along by the idiots in his grade after the New Year’s countdown, more card games, several increasingly sleepy attempts at Truth or Dare that he had not chosen to participate in, and the rest was a blur. He must have been too tired to pay much attention.

He let his eyes wander around. Satou was sitting on the floor, his head slumped against the mattress of the bed across from his; Suzuki was sleeping properly under the blanket, ignoring everyone around him. Sprawled across him above the blanket, with his head dangling down to the ground, lay someone who, judging by the size, could only be Kiichi. Everyone was fast asleep.

Should he go back to his room? If this wasn’t his room already... and if it wasn’t, where was he?

Probably better to stay here, he thought. It wasn’t like he’d be able to get up without waking the others; besides, he honestly didn’t feel like wandering the dark hotel in the middle of the night, anyway. He should try to sleep some more... except now that he had realized how cramped it was, he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep again anytime soon.

His eyes rested on the window, then on Kiichi, his ridiculous sleeping pose and the shirt that had slid off his back and gathered down at his shoulders. For some reason he felt a strong urge to get up and pull the idiot into a normal position. Or at least cover his back somehow. If he caught a cold here, things would be troublesome.

But... if he did that he’d probably wake him up, and things would get awkward. Better not to. It couldn’t be long before the others woke up, anyway.

Oh well. He’d leave it this time. It wasn’t like he was his mom, after all. Or anyone’s mom, for that matter. The role of the team’s mother figure already belonged to Usui, and hopefully it would never fall to him. It was bad enough that he had to play the babysitter so often.

Usui... Kimishita gave a sigh. Usui was sharing a room with Mizuki, wasn’t he? Of course he did. They always roomed together on every trip. Kimishita envied him. Even right now he was probably fast asleep with the comfortable knowledge that Mizuki was only a few feet away whenever he needed him, and he didn’t even appreciate how much of a privilege that was. If Kimishita could trade places with him, he’d do it in a heartbeat, no matter the conditions and circumstances.

Well, maybe not entirely. Not being able to withdraw from Mizuki twenty-four hours a day for at least the next few days, maybe even a whole week or longer, did sound stressful. Constantly needing to watch himself, precariously balancing his feelings against his pride and the neverending fear of being walked in on, lying awake at night unable to do anything except stare at Mizuki’s sleeping face and wonder if all this was real sounded stressful, much too stressful. No matter how hard it was to tear himself away from him sometimes, Mizuki wasn’t the kind of person Kimishita could be around twenty-four hours a day without interruption.

_Does that mean... he’s not good for me after all?_

The thought flashed through him like a flickering light, brief but bright enough to leave an afterimage when it was already gone. Where had that thought come from? And why now?

He had never asked himself this question before. All he had ever asked himself was if he was enough for others, Kiichi back in middle school, Mizuki now. It wasn’t others who had to deserve him, he had thought. It was him who had to try hard to deserve others, and even then he couldn’t be sure that he actually did. And yet... the more he thought about it, the more normal the question seemed.

He might not be a perfect soccer player. He might not have the greatest people skills. He might not be attractive for the people he found attractive. But that didn’t mean he should give himself up for hopeless yet, he realized. Not when everything around him was changing, changing in ways he would never have thought possible two years ago. He was back at nationals with his high school team. He and Kiichi were still a team, and they were stronger than ever and ready to make up for their loss at the end of middle school. He wasn’t just anyone anymore. He was part of one of the strongest teams in Tokyo, no, in the country, and maybe it was about time he stopped only ever looking up and remembered how far he himself had climbed alongside everyone else.

If he just stopped measuring himself by other people, their skills, their views of him... wouldn’t everything become so much easier?

That wouldn’t mean he thought Mizuki wasn’t good enough for him though, he thought quickly, a tinge of panic clouding his thoughts. Mizuki was amazing in every way, and he  _was_  good enough for him. Of that Kimishita was sure. He just needed to learn how to handle him and become a little more confident in his presence, a little more than he had already become, and things would be fine.

After all, maybe things were actually a lot simpler than his fears and worries liked to make them.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed and drifted off until the others shook him awake again to watch the first sunrise of the year.

\---

Not having to play a match today was nice, all right.

Kimishita relaxed in his chair, sipping his coffee and gazing out through the window, enjoying the view by daylight this time. It really was nice. Sitting here with piping hot coffee and looking outside was a luxury worth winning nationals for alone; the longer they could stay here, the longer he would be able to continue enjoying all the things he couldn’t simply get his hands on at home.

_If we get through the next match, that is._

He shoved that thought down. Back then had been back then, and now was now. No need to freak himself out just because he had taken a look at Ichiboshi’s lineup.

“It’s not half bad,” he remarked to Suzuki, who was reading on his side of the room. “It feels like I’m the king of some country.”

Suzuki paused briefly before replying, and when he did, Kimishita could hear the half-confused, half-amused frown playing in his voice. “King of some country, all right.”

_What?_  Kimishita wanted to reply, but at that moment the door barged open with a slam that sent the walls quivering, and he choked on his coffee.

“Hey!” shouted a voice, at least as loud as the door banging against the wall. Suzuki fell backwards out of his chair. Kimishita spluttered and coughed, not even needing to look at the doorframe to recognize the intruder.

“Knock first!” he growled, wiping his mouth as he rose from his chair, glaring. “What is it, asshat?”

“He’s here.”

There he went again, talking as if Kimishita magically knew what and who he was talking about. Except... this time he actually knew. The pure look of shock, disgust and mild horror was more than enough to tell him.

“The next match,” Kiichi managed out, staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. “He’s here...”

So he had noticed too. Kimishita supposed it had only been a matter of time.

“No shit,” he replied, narrowing his eyes with a scowl. “And you only realized that now, you idiot?”

Behind Kiichi Suzuki had scrambled up, looking back and forth between them with increasing confusion written on his face. Kimishita half considered letting him in on the secret, but that could wait. Right now he had to do something about the idiot standing in front of him looking white as a sheet.

“Don’t be a smartass!” Kiichi snapped at him. “What are we gonna do?”

Kimishita rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. Play soccer?”

“I know that, asshole!”

“Then don’t ask, you imbecile!”

“You know that’s not what I mean!”

“Well, then tell me what you do mean!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, but he wasn’t truly angry. Most of all he kept going because the familiarity of their argument had returned some color to Kiichi’s face. “It’s not like I can use some bullshit psychic powers to look into your empty head!”

“Shut up! I mean... I mean... that! Well, uh... y’know...  _that!_  That thing!”

“For the millionth time, use words or say nothing!”

Kiichi raised his fist, but Kimishita knew his movements well enough to tell he wasn’t planning on punching him for real this time. “What?” he taunted with a scoff. “Is violence the only answer you have?”

Flushing pink, Kiichi lowered his hand, awkwardly scratching the back of his head instead. “Asshole,” he grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t look truly angry.

Suzuki shot them both a long look, then he sighed, picking up his book from where he had dropped it and heading for the door. “I’m going someplace quieter,” he said. “Don’t mind me.”

For some reason his words felt incredibly embarrassing.

“Did... we disturb you?” Kimishita forced out, gritting his teeth as his face flushed hot with shame. “You should’ve said something earlier, we’d have... I mean... sorry.”

Suzuki shook his head. “Not at all! I just don’t want to disrupt your private conversation, so call me when you’re done.” He opened the door. “See you later.”

There was a long, awkward silence.

“Where, uh...” Kiichi managed out at last. “Where were we?”

Kimishita snorted. “At the part where you were calling me an extremely unoriginal insult because you couldn’t come up with a proper comeback.”

“Oh yeah? Then I’m gonna think of something creative! You ass... no... jerk... uh... you twat... twat... waffle! You’re a fucking twat waffle!”

“Did you just use good, precious food to make an insult?”

“You gotta problem with that?”

“Don’t drag the image of food through the mud like that! I’ll kill you!”

Kiichi gave a smug smile. “Violence is not the answer,  _Kimishita-kun_.”

For a second Kimishita actually felt tempted to reach up and strangle him, but then he relaxed. Kiichi had calmed down completely, he realized. His pallor was gone, and he was fully back to his usual brash, obnoxious, insufferable self.

“So now that you’ve calmed down,” he said, closing his eyes and crossing his arms, “care to explain what you want me to tell you about the match tomorrow?”

Kiichi’s answer came without hesitation.

“We’re gonna win.”

Kimishita opened one eye, then the second. Gazing up at Kiichi, he took in every detail of his face, the steely shine in his eyes, the set line of his jaw, the lips pressed together into a stubborn pout. Every part of him radiated willpower and determination and confidence, a kind of confidence that he had often lacked before. In all the years Kimishita had known him he had always been narcissistic and prone to bragging but insecure at the core, always seeking praise and attention and validation. But not right now. What he saw on his face right now was nothing but true, natural confidence in its purest form.

He knew what Kiichi was thinking. It was the same thing he felt. He, too, could vividly remember that match two years ago, the pain and regret and frustration. And he, too, was determined to make up for that loss at all costs. Except that they could actually do it this time. They were no longer the ever-arguing brats from back then. They were strong. They were Seiseki. They could do this.

They would go out there and show Aiba Miran exactly what they were made of. And they would get their revenge, once and for all.

Not that he needed to say any of that. He knew. They both knew. Of that he was sure.

“Yeah,” he said, a proud, powerful smirk making its way onto his face. “That’s not even a question, idiot.”


	35. 17.0

It wasn’t a match. It was a series of flashes.

Kimishita kept a close eye on Aiba as they walked onto the pitch, never letting him out of his gaze while he shook hands with Ichiboshi’s players. They were all powerful in their own ways, and he couldn’t underestimate them, he was sure. But this wasn’t about them. This was about  _Aiba_ , about getting payback for the match they had lost so bitterly back in middle school. The match they were going to make up for today, winning with twice the lead they had lost to.

Kiichi was in front of him, and he was before him in turn to shake hands with Aiba. Kimishita tensed up. His eyes rested firmly on the two in front of him, listening intently for anything they might say.

“Hey,” Kiichi said, glancing down at Aiba, determination and barely-restrained energy burning behind his eyes. “Remember me?”

Aiba blinked at him, taken aback, then he lowered his head and smiled, too friendly to be a smirk and too piercing to be a full-on smile. “Nope,” he said. “I don’t remember anything about rivals I beat.”

_Should’ve known,_  Kimishita thought. Still, after all the struggles, all the painful memories, all the thoughts of getting a rematch and showing him who they were, it almost felt like an insult.

Kiichi gave a smirk, clearly not registering Aiba’s words as he let go of his hand and walked on. “Ha,” he said smugly.

There was a beat of silence, then he spun around with the most shocked, offended grimace his face could possibly offer. “ _Shit!_ ”

“Shut up,” Satou said from the other side, visibly exasperated.

They moved ahead, and suddenly it was Kimishita’s turn to shake hands with Aiba.

“Good luck,” Aiba said to him, relaxed as ever, but Kimishita couldn’t join in that relaxation. Not when he felt like he was a swordsman standing face to face with his opponent, both of them waiting for an opening in the other’s defense to make the first strike and start the battle.

“Today...”

Aiba turned his head with mild surprise.

Stepping up to him, Kimishita gripped his hand, gazing up at him with narrowed eyes, a silent promise and a threat that went beyond his words.

“I won’t let you forget for a second time.”

Before Aiba could reply, he let go and moved on, but as he walked ahead he could still feel his gaze lingering on his and Kiichi’s backs.

\---

Ooshiba caught his breath, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead and using the opportunity to brush a hand through his hair. Going well so far, he thought. Neither of the teams had scored a goal yet, but in terms of skill they were neck and neck. Neither was ahead of the other. Yet.

_Suck it, Aiba,_  he thought as he glared across the pitch at Ichiboshi’s ace. That guy was still good, but he was no longer crushing them under his feet. They had caught up to him. Their teams were equal now. And neither he nor Kimishita were about to let history repeat itself here.

He remembered yesterday’s strategy talk, the intricate plan Ubukata had explained to them. Step one of it seemed to be going okay. Mizuki hadn’t managed to score that stupid header of his (really, what a copycat, stealing Ooshiba’s moves), but that not too much relied on that one anyway. Looked like it was time to put a little more into his role in the plan.

Ah, screw plans. His gut feeling told him the time was right. And when it came to soccer and strategy, his gut feeling had never fooled him before.

What was that big Ichiboshi guy called again? Oku or something. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had to mark him and stop him at all costs.

The ball headed for Oku, but Ooshiba was fast. Leaping at almost the same time, he slammed his head against the ball, sending it flying back into the opposite direction.

Really, doing all that was awesome. Defense, headers... why had he never tried all that before? He was amazing at it!

“The king of the skies!” he laughed smugly as he landed, raising his head in the air and puffing out his chest. The ball bounced freely over the grass–

–and was stopped by a skilled foot.

Aiba’s foot.

Ooshiba half thought about running to stop him, but Kazama and Tsukamoto were faster. Closing in on him, they hovered nearby, biding their time, ready to leap in and intercept any shoot Aiba might attempt to make.

Aiba and Kazama moved at the same time. Like mirror images they both darted in the same direction, perfectly reflecting each other’s moves. Then a figure moved up from the side, gracefully stealing the ball and dribbling it back in the other direction.

Kazama spun around with a gasp. Aiba stopped short, whipping towards the first-year to give him his most shocked, furious glare. “Heeeey, freshman! What the hell?”

Niiro ignored him. Smiling his usual smile, he shot... not towards the goal. The post... Kamimura. Touched by Inohara. Still flying towards the goal– Usui. Throw-in for Ichiboshi. Seiseki moved up their lines. Chinen. Oku. Usui again.  _Damn it, I want the ball too. Give me the ball, assholes!_

But the ball didn’t go to him; it went to Mizuki. Of course it did. He’d go and score a goal as usual, and– damn it! What the hell was Ichiboshi’s goalkeeper? There was no way someone without superpowers could have stopped that one!

Ooshiba ran ahead, his senses carrying him straight for the goal. On the side Tsukamoto saved the ball from going out and passed. And Ooshiba knew, he just knew this one was for him.

So what if he was closely marked. He had something to repay here. He had something to prove. So he’d be damned if he didn’t make this one.

Spinning around in midair, he leaped and shot the ball with his heel.

The goalkeeper couldn’t get this one. It was going in. It was going in–

The ball slammed against the post with a clank, and the goalkeeper dived and grabbed it in his arms before it could cross the line.

Ooshiba cursed inwardly. So close! He had been so close to scoring the first damn goal of the whole damn match, and on the last few inches that had been ruined. The last few inches! Was that a joke?

But he wouldn’t throw a fit this time. He wouldn’t get angry. Not yet. He would do what the cool, smart future captain of Seiseki should do and stay calm and keep playing. The match was far from over. And this miss had been nothing but a bit of bad luck. Next time he’d be luckier. Or more awesome. No, both. This wasn’t just another match they had to win, after all. This was personal.

And he’d be damned if he didn’t end up scoring the first goal today. That wasn’t a promise.

It was a prophecy. And he was just about to make it come true.

\---

This was trouble.

Kimishita narrowed his eyes, his gaze focused on the center of the pitch. He should have expected that one, of course. In a way, he had. But seeing things turn out like this was still a little frustrating.

Kiichi was doing well today, he had to leave him that. No, he was doing amazing. He had always been playing well since the end of the Inter-High, and he had been steadily improving, but this was a new high. Today he wasn’t just a good player among other good players. Today the most troublesome obstacle standing between Ichiboshi Academy and certain victory was called Ooshiba Kiichi.

The problem was just that Kimishita wasn’t the only one to have noticed that.

Man-marked by Kamimura. Kimishita clicked his tongue. He hated to admit it, but that guy was sharp, dangerously sharp. His hope had been that they would be able to keep going the way they had for at least a little longer before their secret weapon was discovered. But looked like things weren’t going to be that easy, after all.

Kiichi had been completely shut down. Each one of his plays had been anticipated and cut short by Kamimura, and the obvious attempt to score had been blocked at the very last second. Had it been but for that ridiculous last-second block, Kiichi would have scored the first goal of the match.

Frowning, Kimishita glanced over, following Kiichi with his eyes. Even from this distance his frustration was evident. Staring at the ground in front of his feet, he walked quietly back to his position, red hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his expression except for his mouth, which was drawn into a tight, determined line. His shoulders were hanging low, his breath coming in gasps from the exercise as if the simple fact that he had been stopped so easily was taking a physical toll on his body.

“Hmmmph.” Kazama spun the ball around on his finger, looking almost infuriatingly light-hearted for the situation at hand. “As expected. Depending on Kiichiman is harsh, huh?”

_You know nothing._

The thought flashed through Kimishita’s head at the speed of lightning. He didn’t know where it came from either. After all, Kazama had a valid enough point. He hadn’t known Kiichi for that long, and what he had seen so far wasn’t much. Most of the deciding goals this year had been scored by Mizuki or Kazama himself, and aside from Tsukamoto Kiichi was probably the forward with the most flunked scoring attempts and the fewest actual goals so far. His personality hadn’t exactly seemed reliable either. And yet... Kazama’s words felt like a personal offense.

Probably because he knew better, Kimishita thought.

Kiichi wasn’t unreliable. He wasn’t weak, either. He might be lazy and irresponsible and insufferably childish, but when he truly cared about something he could show true dedication. He loved soccer. He had good reasons to try harder at it now. And today of all days he had every reason to give it his best, put all his energy into it and rise up to levels none of these people had even the faintest idea of.

Relying on Kiichi wasn’t harsh. He had relied on him for ages and ages, and not once had he regretted it. Trusting him was something that came naturally, something he didn’t need to question. Kiichi would get past this. That wasn’t a matter of hope or wishful thinking. He just knew.

“You’re underestimating him.”

Kazama blinked, his eyes widening in surprise as Kimishita took the ball from his hands. “Huh?”

Kimishita smirked.

“Just you watch.”

\---

Ooshiba’s head was low. His eyes were dark, fixed on the ground, but behind the bangs falling into his face his mind was racing. So he had been stopped a couple of times, fine. That Kamimura guy was skilled, and he was smart too. His plays had been impressive. He needed to step up his game, or else he’d be rendered useless for the rest of the match.

People around him were shooting him looks, his teammates worried, his opponents victorious. Ooshiba bit back a smirk. They already thought he had been shut down, did they? They thought he was discouraged. Well, they were all in for a surprise. Him? Discouraged? Ha!

Straightening up, he tried to ignore Kamimura’s voice as the annoyance continued to talk to him with that annoying smile that lay somewhere in between mocking and genuine acknowledgement. “Being the core of the team when you’re only a second-year is awesome, isn’t it, Ooshiba?”

Ooshiba didn’t answer. He was thinking. Something was starting to fit together in his head, something that felt like he had been trying to assemble it for a long time. One second now... any moment...

“In Seiseki’s second-year class too,” Kamimura continued, “you have assembled some good pieces.”

_Bingo._

The words clicked together in his head. Ooshiba’s face lit up, his back straightening up as he addressed the third-year trailing half a step behind him.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s Ooshiba-san, ya know? Use honorifics.”

Kamimura paused, taken aback. “Why should I?” he asked. “Oh, right, this is the first time we meet. In case you don’t know, I’m a third-year. You’re just a second–”

“Before I rolled on my back to sleep I could already kick a ball.”

Stopping in his tracks, Ooshiba glanced over his shoulder, meeting eyes with Kamimura behind him. “I started dribbling when I was one. I stood on top of a ball when I was three.”

Kamimura didn’t answer. He only raised an eyebrow, as if guessing what he was trying to say.

“In other words,” Ooshiba continued, “if we’re just talking soccer, I’m the oldest guy on this pitch.”

Kamimura started to reply something, but Ooshiba didn’t listen. He didn’t need to. Whatever that guy could have to say didn’t matter to him. He had to focus on the match. After all, he hadn’t been playing for this long for nothing–

A soccer ball hit him smack in the side of his head.

“Fuck!” he burst out, snapping back to attention in a flash. “I got careless!”

Kimishita’s voice reached him from the side. “You moron!”

Spinning around, Ooshiba made to chase after the ball. Kamimura anticipated him. The ball got back to Hideki, then to him. No one intercepted it this time. It was his now.

And he was completely isolated on the side of the pitch.

His mind moved at lightning speed. Everything fell into slow motion. All sounds and noises grew distant, removed, until the only things he sensed were the moving figures of the other players and the pitch under his feet.

“Shiba!” Haibara’s voice reached him from the distance, quiet and remote and so very slow. “Don’t be reckless!”

He had once thought he could do anything.

Ooshiba’s body set into motion, barely taking time to think before following through on his thoughts, making decisions in a flash. Every part of him was hyperaware of everything going on around him. Kamimura in front of him, a difficult opponent to pass. Hayase running up behind. It would be easy to pass now. But he knew what he had to do.

Once upon a time he had thought of himself as perfect, infallible, undefeatable. If he tried something, he had thought, no matter what it was, he could do it with ease.

But that was in the past.

He also had weaknesses. There were things he lacked. Finding that out had been a harsh and painful process, one that involved falling on his face and getting hurt and upset and berated over and over again. It had taken pain and blood and tears to stop closing his eyes and covering his ears and realize that. That he was no deity. That he was flawed, capable of failing like anyone else. That it wasn’t always other people’s fault when he did. But... that was okay. He didn’t have to be the perfect, almighty genius to be good at this, to be standing here. And he didn’t have to be perfect to be happy with himself either.

He lacked things. That was neither good nor bad. It was just how it was. He couldn’t have them all.

His eyes flashed to the side, then he dived and passed Kamimura in the other direction.

Kimishita’s astuteness...

Kamimura and Chinen, still on him. Mizuki running from the side. He could pass now. Or he could send a glance, hint– and dribble past them.

Kazama’s slyness...

He was in front of the goal now. Three defenders between him and the net. Three defenders and a goalkeeper. Dribble past them – no, impossible. Oku cut the ball off from his heel. But he turned, leaped, recovered it, and chased back past them towards the goal.

Tsukamoto’s dedication...

Kamimura again, colliding into him. Trying to stop him. But not this time. Not anymore. Hands grabbing his arm, his shirt... he didn’t have time for them. He wouldn’t let them stop him. He took aim and made for the kick.

Mizuki’s power...

He didn’t have any of that.

But that was okay, he thought as he watched the goalkeeper step out of the goal, only waiting for the right moment, the opening that allowed him to shoot. He was okay with not having all that. Even if it meant admitting weaknesses. Because he also had his own strength. Something no one else on the team had. Something no one else on this pitch had.

It had been nagging him lately, bugging him, frustrating him. This feeling of losing, the feeling of not being good enough. Of being overshadowed. But that wasn’t it, he realized. None of them had been better or worse. They were all just different. It was like comparing apples and pears; sometimes one was better for something, sometimes the other. But neither was absolutely better or worse. They were just whole different things, whole different categories.

Whole different people.

And his strength, he thought, his strength was none of what the others had. His strength was something else. Because not once, not one single time in all his life, had he ever felt like giving up, even for a second.

Fine, maybe his life hadn’t been long yet. Seventeen years. Compared to the earth, that wasn’t much. And yet there had been so much. So many stories, so many memories. People fighting over who got him on their team in the playground. Scoring dozens of goals on the elementary school pitch. Middle school. Kimishita. Entering high school. Proving himself over and over and over again.

Seventeen years. In those seventeen years he had been the one who had touched the ball the most. Because he had never quit. Never given up. Because in the end, hanging in there was what always paid off the most.

There it was. The opening.

Ooshiba jumped and slammed the ball into the goal with a furious header.

Seventeen years. All that time, all that experience. All that determination and dedication, all the times he had to restart, all the times he had found himself back at a new entrance, opening a new door, climbing the top of the stairs only to find a ladder leading even further up. Seventeen years of constantly keeping to it, constantly trying. Seventeen years of never giving up.

That was something no one else had but him. That was his power.

That and nothing else.

After all, giving up was for losers. It was a distant, amusing concept. One he couldn’t comprehend. Maybe others could do it, but if he loved something, he’d never give it up in his life. And he loved soccer.

_So, bring it on, people. I know who I am now. And I got a couple more goals to score._

\---

His move. His move. His move.

Kimishita’s insides were still shaky when he thought back on it, and the match had ended hours ago. He didn’t understand that feeling either. But he was so, so, so, so proud.

When Kiichi had copied his move, he hadn’t known what to do. He hadn’t known what to think. Looking back he didn’t remember what he had felt in that moment, except surprise, some kind of amazement... and pride. And... something else. He had been... flattered, he supposed. Even if that word somehow felt too small for what he had felt in that second. To think that Kiichi, the very Kiichi who had always been so proud, so independent, had learned from others, from  _him_  without being forced to somehow felt like a badge of honor. And then he had gone and combined all the other forwards’ styles into his plays too, and Kimishita had understood that everyone, every single person, including himself, had been underestimating him completely.

This was him. This was his Kiichi.

His heart gave a little clench at the thought, but he didn’t stop to question it. He was just plain happy. Happy to see the boy he had played with since they were twelve and thirteen years old rise to such incredible heights. Happy to see that, after all the struggles and blunders, he had played and won like a professional.

No, not he. They both had.

Damn it, he was so happy. So happy he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was just... so glad. So glad they hadn’t parted ways after middle school. So glad they were still teammates. So impossibly, indescribably glad to still have him by his side, to be able to watch and support him as he grew and help him climb to ever-new heights.

This feeling was familiar, part of him thought. This feeling was a little like back then, except stronger, happier somehow. Part of him wondered if he should be worried about that. The rest of him didn’t care. Not right now. He just didn’t care.

Sighing, he buried his face in his hands, raking his hands through his hair in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was still so hung up on that one moment when everything that had happened in this match had only been more amazing, but somehow he couldn’t stop it from replaying in his head. Maybe it was Kiichi’s growth that made him so happy. Maybe it was the uncanny feeling that he had witnessed the very moment something within him changed, and he came to a realization that had been waiting for months to hit him. Maybe he was just proud that Kiichi was finally learning from other people and using their moves instead of only looking down.

Learning moves from people... in a way that was a very Mizuki-like thing to do.

Why... did that thought make his heart skip a beat?

“Hey.”

Kimishita almost jumped out of his skin. Snapping back upright, he caught a shadow falling on his face, and when he looked up he found his gaze meeting with a familiar pair of eyes.

“Kiichi,” he gasped out, inwardly cursing at himself. Damn it, he had been caught off guard. How spaced out had he been to not notice him coming? “Don’t sneak up on people, idiot!”

“I didn’t.” Kiichi crossed his arms. “You just had your head in the clouds.”

Kimishita wanted to snap at him, but startled and embarrassed as he was, he still didn’t have the heart for more than a grumble and a half-hearted glare. Not when he could still see the glow of victory as brightly in his eyes as he felt it inside his own chest.

“I was tired,” he said vaguely, hoping that after a match like this nobody would question it. “What do you want? Better make it quick.”

“Uh.” Suddenly Kiichi looked awkward, his cheeks flushing slightly as he raked a hand through his bangs. “Good game today.”

Kimishita snorted. “Look who’s talking,  _man of the match_.”

Silence. Kiichi stared at him with wide eyes, and Kimishita could pinpoint the very second he had made a mistake.

“T-That’s...” He scrambled through his thoughts, trying to cover up. “That’s what I heard people calling you. So don’t think I personally...” He trailed off, blushing.

“Oh, yeah.” Kiichi’s face fell, and the smile that passed over his face was just slightly sad. “For you the man of the match is always Captain, huh?”

“No! I just...” Why did that face, those words hurt him? “I don’t think there was one man of the match today. Everyone deserves credit.”

“Oh.”

Another moment of silence. A gust of wind rushed by outside the window.

“But that aside...”

Kimishita swallowed, lifting his head, but even as he met Kiichi’s eyes he couldn’t stop the smile spreading all over his face. “You did well today,” he said. “We all underestimated you.”

Kiichi went pink. His eyes grew wide and round, and then a bright, proud, happy smile made its way onto his face, a little smug and obnoxious, but so cheery and genuine and innocent that Kimishita forgave that bit of pride. “Say that again!”

“Not until you do something to earn it again, idiot!”

“Asshole.”

There was a pause, then Kiichi sat down next to him, leaning back and stretching out his legs. “Ya know,” he said quietly, gazing into the distance, “I thought something today. In that match.”

Kimishita didn’t answer. He only waited for him to continue.

“I thought... I don’t gotta be the best like Kazama, or Tsukamoto... or Captain. I can be the best like me.”

_Of course you can, idiot. You already are._

“Like, I kinda thought I had to be better than them at everything, or some shit. Maybe I, uh... thought I already was.” He looked embarrassed. “But they’re they, and I’m me. They can do shit I can’t do. And I can do shit they can’t do. And sometimes that means they’re gonna win, but sometimes I’m gonna be the best at the stuff you need to win.” He glanced at Kimishita, as if searching for affirmation. “Right?”

“...Yeah.”

“Sometimes... it’s not gonna be Captain who’s needed the most... but me.” Kiichi tensed up a little. “Right?”

“Of course, idiot.”

He was talking about soccer here. They both were. And yet... why did Kiichi’s words resonate so strangely in parts of Kimishita’s soul?

_Don’t think about it._  Kimishita should play it off. Scoffing, he put on a playful smirk, eyeing Kiichi from underneath an amusedly raised eyebrow. “So that means you won’t throw a fit when you get subbed out now?”

Kiichi pouted at him. “Fuck off.”

“That a yes or a no?”

“That was one time!”

“Sure. Should I list the  _one time_  alphabetically or chronologically?”

“It  _was_  one time!”

“Yeah, one time in your dreams! And roughly fifteen times in reality!”

Kiichi made a move as if to punch him, then he dropped his hand and sighed.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Can I hug you?”

Kimishita’s heart stuttered and stumbled. “Wh-Wha–?! Where the fuck did that come from, idiot?”

“I just wanna.” Kiichi crossed his arms, pouting off to the side. “Can I?”

He wanted to.

Kiichi was so close to him, so close he could feel the warmth from his body. He wanted to move into it again, let it wrap around him and envelop him whole, let out all the joy and affection and mind-numbing pride still bottled up inside him. But...

No. Not again. One mistake was enough.

“No,” he said quietly, staring at his shoes. “Not again. We got carried away once already, so forget it.”

Kiichi looked disappointed, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Silence again. Kimishita half wondered if this was the end of the conversation already. He more than half wondered if he should say something, anything, just to keep Kiichi from leaving.

“If we win nationals... can I start hugging you again?”

Kimishita’s head whipped around. “What the–?”

Kiichi avoided his eyes. “Can I? Yeah or no.”

“What am I, a trophy? No means–”

He stopped. The gears in his mind started working. Wait a second... he thought he knew what Kiichi was playing at. If they won nationals together, they would definitely be overwhelmed. Overjoyed. No one would blame them if they, the ever-bickering duo, jumped into each other’s arms. And neither should the two of them.

Besides, the thought was just a little too tempting.

“Fine,” he said. “If we win. That counts as a special situation.”

The look on Kiichi’s face was almost enough to make him forget his principles and hug him on the spot after all.


	36. Denial

Ever since that conversation, Kimishita couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

He sensed it when he went out to practice in the evening and his phone buzzed with a message from Kiichi, telling him to meet up at an expensive parfait place and making his heart skip a beat. He sensed it when he arrived there and found Kiichi sitting across from Ichiboshi’s Aiba and couldn’t shake the disappointment that sunk into him for no explicable reason. He sensed it when he squeezed into the booth with Kiichi to talk to Aiba and every part of his body became hyperaware of how close they sat. He sensed it when Aiba left and he and Kiichi ended up arguing over who was going to get up and sit across from the other and he caught himself feeling like he wouldn’t mind staying this cramped.

He sensed it when he hung out alone with Mizuki, getting close to him and touching him with ease, so much ease that his chest didn’t flutter at all. He sensed it when he moved in to kiss him and it felt easy, much too easy, so easy that he caught himself wondering if something was wrong.

No, something was definitely wrong, he thought when they went up against Ryouzan and he and Kiichi moved in for a high five, only to duck out, high five Satou and Suzuki instead, and be pulled back into a hug by Usui. Being suddenly hugged by the vice-captain was scary, but that wasn’t the reason why Kimishita’s face felt hot, why his heartbeat stumbled and started drumming and pounding in his ears. If Usui was the reason, then why did his side feel so warm? Why was his body throbbing and pulsing where Kiichi brought up a hand to lightly rest it on his back?

What was wrong with him? Why did this feel...  _familiar?_

He still liked Mizuki. Of course he did. That wasn’t it. He was still drawn to him, and he admired him and wanted to be with him and spend time with him and get to know him better at every chance he got. Even if he didn’t think about him as much as he used to. Even if he didn’t fret over him as much anymore. That only meant he had left the anxious crush phase behind and finally become comfortable around him. More or less, anyway.

So what was it?

What was the reason for this... this tension? Why couldn’t he shake this feeling, this anxiousness and embarrassment at any touch from Kiichi, the happiness every time he saw him and the disappointment whenever they didn’t get to spend enough time together? What was it that was constantly taking him back to him... drawing him to Kiichi?

And... did he really want to know?

\---

Truth be told, he hadn’t really wanted this afternoon off.

Kimishita fell backwards on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was the day before the finals, and Nakazawa, under Ubukata’s instructions, had officially banned them from running laps or even touching a ball until tomorrow. They had to rest now, the coach and manager said. They couldn’t risk any overexertion or injuries now, or tomorrow they’d have a problem. Right now what they needed was rest to be in their best form.

_Rest, my ass._  Kimishita was feeling restless. His thoughts were running, spinning in circles, and it was enough to pull on his last nerve. The finals. The damn finals were less than twenty-four hours away and the only way he was allowed to prepare was mentally. He wished he could at least go outside and run; his body was yearning for some exercise, and exhausting himself would definitely shut down at least some of these thoughts in his head. Why on earth wasn’t he allowed to run? He understood Tsukamoto being banned from overexerting himself or slipping and falling and twisting his leg, but he knew his limits just fine, for crying out loud!

Maybe he should get up and go over the strategy again. Maybe he’d also find Ubukata somewhere and discuss some details with her, or maybe he’d run into a few of the third-years doing the same. It definitely sounded more productive and reassuring than lying around here waiting for tomorrow, anyway.

Maybe he’d also run into Mizuki. Or Kiichi. Truth be told, he’d rather run into Kiichi than Mizuki right now. No one was better at getting his mind off things and calming him down, after all.

Or maybe that was just an excuse because he wanted to see him, plain and simple.

Kimishita groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. Their conversation from the evening of the Ichiboshi match came back to him, and he could feal his heartbeat pick up in anxious anticipation. If they won tomorrow...

_Stop it!_  Why the hell was he making such a big deal out of a stupid hug, anyway?

Well, he thought, to be fair, the one to start making a big deal out of this was Kiichi. Who on earth asked for permission before a  _hug_? And who in the world, except for Ooshiba freaking Kiichi, tried to make some stupid bet out of it after being denied permission?

But Kimishita had been the one to deny permission, he thought. Even though they were so close, even though they had hugged before. Except back then Kiichi had been a stand-in for Mizuki. He didn’t need that anymore. He had grown the courage to hug and kiss Mizuki without problems now, so if he went and hugged Kiichi... it would be the real thing. And somehow that was scary. Because he was still frightened by the kiss... because he was afraid of...

Of what, exactly?

Ah, damn it! None of this made any sense!

Someone knocked on the door.

Kimishita jumped upright, smoothing out the bedsheets and clothes as if he had been caught doing something forbidden. “What?” he shouted irritably at the door. “This better be fucking important or else–”

“It’s me,” Suzuki said as he opened the door.

That shut Kimishita up. Flushing pink with embarrassment, he took a step back, half startled, half confused why he was so embarrassed in the first place. “Suzuki,” he spluttered out. “Since when do you knock on the door?”

“Since I don’t know if you’re in the room. I’ve been looking for you,” Suzuki said, and Kimishita abruptly noticed his street clothes and the bag slung over his shoulder. “We’re going out with some of the guys, do you want to join us by any chance?”

“Where to?” Kimishita wanted to say, but what somehow came out instead was, “Who?”

“Mostly the others from our grade. Don’t worry,” Suzuki remarked as Kimishita raised his eyebrows. “The forwards are doing their own thing. I think Kazama dragged them off somewhere earlier.”

_So Kiichi won’t be there, huh._  Kimishita’s heart sank a little, and it irritated him. Fine, so he could really use Kiichi’s nonsense to get his mind off things right now. But since when was he disappointed to hear the idiot wouldn’t be there?

Well, screw it. He wouldn’t bail on this just because Kiichi wasn’t going. He could have a good time with other people just fine, and in any case anything and everything sounded better than hanging around here watching the hands move around on the clock. Kimishita wasn’t normally one for socializing, but today he’d make an exception.

“Fine,” he said, searching for his coat and shoes. “Give me two minutes.”

\---

He wouldn’t have expected it, but being out with the others was more fun than expected.

Kimishita rarely spent time with the other second-years, excluding Kiichi and occasionally Suzuki, but they were a fun bunch after all. He wondered why he had gone so long always chasing after the third-years and looking down on all these people; maybe it came with being the oldest in his grade, or maybe he simply had a weird obsession with coming across as older and more mature than he was. Even if he knew he really didn’t need to try so hard at that anymore.

But now they were roaming the streets, looking around the city and searching for something fun to do, and they barely made it around a few corners into a small park before someone threw the first snowball. Others joined in, and before anyone knew what was happening they were caught up in a snowball fight right there in the middle of the street, complete with building fences and forming teams that tried to one-up each other. Kimishita yelled at them all for being irresponsible until Satou threw a snowball in his mouth, and he found himself forced to retaliate using every single percent of his accumulated aiming skills from over a decade of soccer.

Throwing snowballs got boring after a few minutes, and it was Suzuki’s idea to start kicking them instead. Satou and Kimishita were quick to pick up on the suggestion, mostly because it ran less risk of everyone involved catching a cold, and set up a makeshift goal between two nearby trees. They were just ready to start the absurd competition when Satou suddenly gave a gasp, turning around to the group and violently slapping his forehead.

“Damn it!” he burst out. “We’re banned from playing soccer! This counts as soccer, right?”

“Not technically,” Suzuki replied.

“I don’t think Whiskers or Ubukata will care about technicalities when they murder us, though...”

There was a sneeze from somewhere.

“Who was that?” Kimishita snapped, glaring as everyone in the group looked back at him with suspicious innocence. “If any of you catch a cold from this I’m kicking your asses!”

“We’re not even playing tomorrow!” Mutsumi replied with his arms crossed. “The only thing that matters is that you guys don’t get sick!”

“Wha– But that’s...!”

“Don’t fight,” Suzuki interrupted before Kimishita’s face could flush any pinker with the embarrassment that he had just been caught caring. “Kimishita has a point though, Mucchan. We should go somewhere warm before we really do catch a cold.”

“And get the snow off yourselves!” Kimishita turned around and started heading back towards the road. “It’ll be a pain in the ass if it soaks into your clothes, got it?”

He could feel the stares on his back, and his face heated up. He didn’t know why he had said that either. It wasn’t like he cared that much if these dumbasses got sick thanks to doing something stupid. But... well, if he had to choose between caring and not caring, he supposed he did care about them.

“Kimishita...”

“So you do care!” a voice said from behind, mere seconds before he found himself tackled from behind and four or five arms threw themselves around his shoulders at once. Squirming, he tried to protest, only to be tackled by another weight from behind.

“Get off!” he spluttered out, trying and failing to ward off the unwanted affection. “Get off, we’re in public!”

Suzuki simply pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

“Wha– Suzuki, what the fuck!” Kimishita lunged for the phone but missed. “Delete that! If you send it to anyone I’m kicking your ass–”

Suzuki gave a nod towards Satou. “Hold him down for a bit.”

Kimishita tried to protest, but Satou grabbed him, expertly wrestling him out of fighting distance from Suzuki, who typed away on his phone, tapped the screen once, and tucked it away. “That’s done,” he said with the most infuriatingly blank face imaginable. “You can let him go now.”

Satou released his grip, and Kimishita stumbled free, coughing and spluttering and unsure if he was more furious or embarrassed. “What the–?” he gasped out. “Who’d you send that to?”

“Not that many people,” Suzuki replied cryptically. Glancing down at his phone, he raised an eyebrow in an emotion Kimishita couldn’t make sense of. “Ah, there are replies already.”

Kimishita didn’t try to snatch his phone again this time. Instead he did the sensible thing and pulled out his own to check as an odd sense of foreboding crept over him from behind.

As suspected, Suzuki had posted the picture into the team group chat. Kimishita cursed under his breath, but it wasn’t the picture itself that made him choke on air.

It was the replies.

Whatever the forwards were doing, they couldn’t have been far from their phones. All four of them had been the first to see the picture, and of course all of them hadn’t been able to resist the stupid temptation to reply something incredibly stupid.

_H O LY SHEET its the rare happy kimishita-kun! im keeping this one. must keep all pics of endangered species_

Kimishita groaned. Of course Kazama had to make a nonsensical comment like that. How on earth did he even come up with  _happy_ , anyway? He didn’t look happy in the picture at all!

Mizuki, thankfully, had only sent a thumbs-up emoji, even if it still made Kimishita want to slam his phone into his forehead. He wasn’t dying from embarrassment like he had dreaded, though. Looked like he really had relaxed around him now, enough to survive without a constant series of heart attacks anyway. Whatever that meant. He wouldn’t question it. No. It was a good thing. He wouldn’t question it.

Tsukamoto had followed Mizuki’s message up with a message of his own, written more formally than any sixteen-year-old had the right to type in a group chat, as always.  _Um, Captain Mizuki said it’s great that Kimishita-senpai is making friends in his own grade! And I think it’s very nice too!_

Now that was more embarrassing. But still nothing compared to the way his heart stuttered in his chest when he saw the next set of messages... from none other than Kiichi.

_where_

_where the fuck are u_

_Does he want to join us?_  The thought shot through Kimishita’s head like a flash, and suddenly it wasn’t only his face that felt flushed. His entire body felt heated up, burning red with embarrassment, the urge to crawl into a hole in the ground warring with the sudden desire to open the keyboard and tell him exactly where they were.

Wait, what was wrong with him? Why did he react like this to a simple question? So what if Kiichi wanted to join them, that didn’t mean anything! What should it mean in the first place? And why on earth was he getting so flustered and excited about the simple prospect of meeting Kiichi after all? They had seen each other multiple times every day for nearly the past two weeks!

Why did this almost feel like–

_Like nothing,_  he cut himself short. He had no idea what on earth was wrong with him, but he was sure there was a logical explanation for it somewhere. One that didn’t have anything to do with...  _that_. Because that’d be just ridiculous. He knew his emotions were stupid and irrational and constantly guiding him directly towards unhappiness and suffering, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Clicking his tongue at himself, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, determined not to look at this conversation again no matter what. “Are you finished being stupid yet?” he grumbled at the others. “I’m freezing out here!”

“That would be a bit more believable if you weren’t bright red, Kimishita,” he caught Satou muttering next to him.

Suzuki was still staring at his phone, tapping the side of it in impatience before his face lit up and he nodded, tucking it away. “Okay, now we can go,” he said with the same damn cryptic expression as always. “I know a good place now.”

Kimishita trusted him less and less with every passing second, but since everyone else was going, he had no choice but to follow.

They didn’t have to go far. Suzuki checked the map on his phone a few times and led them directly to the mall a handful of streets away, where four familiar figures met them waiting in the entrance.

Kimishita’s heart did a backflip. Kiichi. And Mizuki too, he registered on the side. This was bad. Very bad. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he was doomed.

Spinning around, he turned to Suzuki, trying to stare him down with his most murderous death glare. “You planned this!”

Suzuki widened his eyes, his expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

“You... You sent the picture because you knew this would happen!” Kimishita whisper-shouted as he balled up his fists, feeling his face flush yet again. “If you wanted to find the forwards, couldn’t you have asked them straight-on like a normal person?”

Suzuki’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t do that on purpose. Why should I?”

Kimishita was so going to murder him later.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?”

Kimishita jumped. Where had Kiichi come from? He had just been several feet away, when in the world had he managed to cross that distance without him noticing? It wasn’t like he could just teleport or something!

“Nothing,” he snapped, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t stick your nose in people’s business! It’s already big enough as it is.”

“The fuck did you say?”

A large hand grabbed his collar, and a familiar face shoved itself all up in his personal space, glaring without malice, so close he could see the spots of amber in Kiichi’s eyes and count each individual dark eyelash. There was a small birthmark next to his eyebrow that he hadn’t noticed before. At least, he didn’t think he had. Had it always been there?

_Damn it, he really was handsome–_

No. He wouldn’t think that. He wouldn’t think that. Even if it was true. It reminded him too much of past blunders, of the mess he had made before. He wouldn’t get carried away again. He should calm himself down... stop himself in time... or else...

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to tear his gaze from Kiichi’s face, searching for Mizuki in the group. Something inside him relaxed. Yes, this was right. This was as it should be.

_As he knew it. As he wanted it to be because he understood it, and change was scary._

No matter. It was as it should be.

“I said,” Kimishita repeated, closing his eyes, “that your nose is already big enough as it is, with you wearing it so high and everything.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m tall– wait a sec! Did you just call me stuck-up?”

“No, I called you the pinnacle of humbleness and self-criticism! Of course I called you stuck-up!” The last bit of tension fell from Kimishita’s shoulders. This was territory he knew and understood. This was what he was comfortable with. “What else would you call an idiot who praises himself even when he fucks up?”

“I don’t do that!”

“Ask anyone around, they’re my witnesses!”

Kiichi stared at him for a long moment, then he abruptly let go, turning towards the others and scowling. “I do not do that.”

“Yes, you do,” replied a chorus of voices.

Kiichi huffed and stomped his foot. The others grinned. Even Kimishita couldn’t help cracking a smile. Something inside him had loosened up, the last part of him that had still been wound tight. He could finally breathe freely. Spending time with Kiichi just did that to him. Stupid and nerve-grating as he was, there was something about him that just made Kimishita feel completely safe.

_I do need him around after all, huh._

As a friend, of course, he hurried to add in his head. Certainly. Naturally. How else should he mean it? He shouldn’t even be this desperate to clarify in the first place!

But he still couldn’t deny that he wanted to be with Kiichi. He wanted to spend time with him, bicker with him, joke around with him. Whatever that feeling meant, he couldn’t deny that it felt so unfairly, addictively right.

“Kimishita?”

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he turned around to find Mizuki standing behind him. He clicked his tongue. What was with people appearing out of nowhere today? And yet, he realized, he wasn’t nearly as startled as he had been when Kiichi had popped up in front of him.

Must be getting used to those scares. Even if he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“Let’s go somewhere on our own,” Mizuki said quietly enough for only him to hear. “To talk about tomorrow.”

_Ah, trying to fulfill your boyfriend duties, huh._  For some reason that thought felt perfectly casual. The thought that Mizuki was still essentially doing this out of pity didn’t hurt at all.

And yet Kimishita wasn’t sure if he could truly say he didn’t mind. For some reason he was hesitant to leave with Mizuki, be alone with him. But it wasn’t shame or heartbreak that was holding him back this time. It was something else. Something he didn’t know how to put into words either.

His eyes lingered on Kiichi. Spending time with Mizuki meant he wouldn’t get to hang out with him, he realized. And if he had to choose who he’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon with... between his friend and his boyfriend...

He would choose Kiichi... over his boyfriend.

This was wrong. This was seriously wrong on so many levels.

“Okay,” he said, tearing his gaze from Kiichi before he could back out and change his mind again. “Let’s go.”

\---

The afternoon flew by, with what, Kimishita didn’t remember. He recalled playing game after game at the arcade, and Mizuki had treated him to chicken wings and fries, but somehow that didn’t seem enough to fill up the whole time they had spent there. All he knew was that it had been fun, relaxed and fun. Just that. Nothing more. Like an afternoon with a friend, not a date with his boyfriend.

For the entire afternoon he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

_This is normal,_  he told himself.  _You’ve been out on a date with your boyfriend and you couldn’t even act like a couple. Of course you feel like you’re missing something._

Except... that wasn’t it. It wasn’t  _something_  that he was missing. It was  _someone_.

Kimishita shut that thought down. What was he thinking? He loved Mizuki. They were dating. He should be happy with him. What was he doing, missing someone else? He didn’t miss anyone. It was only a stupid feeling.

And yet...  _and yet..._

It was dark when they headed back to the hotel, side by side, their hands meeting and casually lacing together as soon as they were alone. And yet Kimishita didn’t feel excited to be holding hands anymore. He didn’t even feel happy. Not today.

“Kimishita?” Mizuki’s voice cut into his thoughts, and he stumbled and saw that they had already reached the hotel. “Are you thinking of something?”

“What? No, just... just about tomorrow’s match.” Letting go of Mizuki’s hand, he glanced up at him with a smirk. “Let’s win this.”

“Of course.” Mizuki smiled back. “Make the passes go  _blam-blam-blam_  and defeat Indou this time.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to.” A look of disgust crossed Mizuki’s face. “You’re better than that guy anyway.”

Kimishita smiled, but for some reason he felt perfectly calm. Only a few weeks ago he would have done anything in the world to receive such praise from Mizuki, he knew. But right now it didn’t seem all that special. Good, but not special.

“I’ll do my best. You try to score some goals.”

“Of course.” Mizuki glanced around, then he stepped forward and pulled Kimishita into a tight hug. “Good night, Kimishita.”

“Night, Captain.”

Kimishita closed his eyes and returned the hug, but even as he did he couldn’t fight the memory of a taller, stronger figure melting desperately against his own.

This feeling... could it be...?

No chance. No way.

His heart still belonged to Mizuki after all.

Right...?

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the less sure he was.

\---

The final whistle rang, and Kimishita lifted his head, shaking from head to toe.

At first it didn’t seem real. It felt like a dream, an illusion conjured up by his worn-out, exhausted mind. Then, little by little, the reality of the whole situation started kicking in, and the whole world faded into a whirlwind of realizations.

Tsukamoto. Tsukamoto. Of all people.

He couldn’t believe this brat. This obnoxious kid! This stupid, incredible bastard!

Tsukamoto had scored the deciding goal. And the match was over. They had won. They had won the goddamn nationals.

They... were the champions.

All exhaustion fell from him. Joy surged up, triumph, an impossible, unstoppable energy as he ran, ran directly into the dog-pile that surrounded Tsukamoto, letting out a victorious roar. They had done it. They had made it. After all the struggles, all the suffering, all the near-failures and close calls, they had finally, finally, finally made it.

The next minutes were a blur. He remembered a dozen high fives, a dozen hugs as the rest of the team came storming onto the pitch, shouting and cheering and celebrating with them. Someone cried into his shirt, and he barely knew who. All he knew was that he was on fire, so happy, so overjoyed he barely knew what he was doing anymore.

All he knew was that he was proud to be a part of this. A part of Seiseki, this very team, all these ridiculous, irreplaceable people who had brought them this far. He was proud to have played his part. He was proud that, at least a little, this was his victory too.

And not just his. There was someone else he was impossibly, incredibly, inhumanly proud of.

Kiichi was already running towards him as he charged in, aiming for a high five. But he didn’t get one. Instead a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he was launched up into the air, spun round and round until Kiichi tumbled down backwards and pulled him with him onto the ground.

Kimishita tightened his hold, sinking into the embrace even though his arms were being crushed underneath Kiichi’s back. He couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t stop smiling, laughing, holding onto Kiichi with his entire body in the hopes that at least a fraction of his pride in him, his joy, would transfer onto him. Kiichi was laughing and crying at once, tears streaming down his face even as he was glowing, radiating the purest, brightest happiness Kimishita had ever seen in his life.

They were so close now. So happy. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to look away from this face, this joy that was his as much as it was Kiichi’s. He was so glad to feel him close like this. He was so glad to be pressed up against him with his arms around his back, messy and sweaty but so, so, so happy.

He wished he could stay like this forever, happy in Kiichi’s arms. He wished he could rest their foreheads together and wipe the messy tears off his face. He wished he could close the last bit of distance between them and...

_...and kiss him._

Something cold shot through his chest, sharp and acute and much too real. He tried to deny it to himself. This was just the joy in him speaking, he tried to think. He was overjoyed and overwhelmed, and that was the only reason. But he knew that would be a lie. He didn’t feel any desire to hug anyone else on the team like that, let alone kiss them. Not even Mizuki.

This was something else. Something bigger. Something he didn’t want, but something he couldn’t deny anymore. The truth was staring him in the face, plain and simple and glaringly obvious.

It wasn’t Mizuki his heart belonged to. Not anymore. Somewhere along the way, at some point in time, something had changed. His feelings had changed. And that was the true reason why he felt relaxed around Mizuki now. That was the true reason why he wasn’t so afraid of making a bad impression anymore... why the thought that his feelings were one-sided didn’t hurt anymore.

Mizuki wasn’t his number one anymore.

The one who had stolen his heart, silently and so secretly not even he himself had noticed it, was none other than Ooshiba Kiichi.


	37. Questioning

He... had fallen in love with Kiichi.

Again.

Kimishita tried to get a hold of his thoughts, but they slipped and tumbled through his grasp. For a short moment time came to a stop, and nothing looked or sounded or felt real as the realization slowly sank in.

And then it hit him, slowly yet suddenly and all at once.

_What am I doing?_

Kimishita shot bolt upright, letting go of Kiichi and tearing himself from his arms, scrambling to his feet and staggering away, his body cold and his eyes wide open. What was happening? What was he thinking? What was he doing? He understood. Yet he didn’t understand anything. What was wrong with him? What on earth, what in the world was he  _doing?_

His eyes flitted to Mizuki, searching for his face, dreading, expecting to find some sort of reaction, some kind of confirmation that the realization that had just struck him was written plainly over his features, and the secret of his feelings was finally out in the open. But Mizuki wasn’t even looking at him; he was hugging and high-fiving the other third-years, and Kimishita truly didn’t know if he was more relieved or disappointed.

Kiichi sat up on the ground, wide-eyed and surprised and a little disappointed, and Kimishita turned away before he could get a better look of his face.  _Act normal,_  he told himself.  _Act normal. You just won nationals, for fuck’s sake! You can’t go around like you just saw a ghost!_

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, trying to channel the feeling of joy and euphoria from earlier. They had just won the finals, he told himself. They had won the damn nationals. They were the strongest team in the country now, and he was part of it. They had defeated everyone else and made it up here, onto the biggest stage a high school soccer player could hope for.

A smile made its way onto his face again, but it wasn’t as wide and overjoyed as before. Good enough, he thought. He could always freak out over his feelings later. Right now he was one of the champions. And he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to enjoy the moment.

But that didn’t keep him from steering clear of Kiichi for the entire rest of the celebration on the pitch.

\---

“That,” Ubukata said when they were back in the locker rooms, her eyes still red from the tears of joy she had tried not to cry earlier, “was incredible.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and opening her mouth to say something more, then she sighed and shook her head, her expression slipping out of control again. “I wanted to make a big speech,” she said, “but screw it. You already know everything I could have said. I have nothing to add.” She raised her head, and her cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment, but she didn’t break her gaze, and her voice was steady as ever as she continued. “Just know that I’ve watched you all grow for this whole year, and I am so, so proud of you.”

There was a beat of silence, and fifty-seven pairs of eyes rested on her in awe, all of them varying degrees of surprised and moved. Tsukamoto was the first to speak. “Ubukata-san...”

“Hey now, demon lady,” Kazama piped in, realizing that his friend was in no fit state to continue. “Don’t sell yourself short! We made it here thanks to you too, remember?”

Ubukata flushed red. The others exchanged glances, and the next moment she was swarmed and crowded by people from all sides, thanking her and complimenting her and showering her with praise and affection until she pushed them all off, blushing from head to toe and stuttering something about nonsense and personal space.

“I agree with her,” Nakazawa said when the group had more or less calmed down, his voice audibly shaking with emotion. “You were incredible, kids. Let’s celebrate this victory and return home as heroes!”

There was another stunned silence, and then the locker room erupted into cheers that could be heard all the way home.

Kimishita was still smiling as they walked back to the bus, everyone around him shouting and cheering and laughing. Someone had started to sing an amateur rendition of  _We Are the Champions_ , very, very off-key, and others joined in until half the team was walking along singing and being the noisiest, most annoying racket Kimishita had ever seen. He didn’t mind though. He simply walked along and soaked up the cheer, the happiness, the euphoria and celebrations while trying not to think about anything.

Life was good. Everything was good. They would return to a huge celebration at the hotel, probably with amazing food again, even more amazing than the incredible New Year’s breakfast after the first round. He should eat to his heart’s content, and then he would try to take some more home with him to give to his father when he returned. And he needed to call his father and tell him everything, if he didn’t know already. Kimishita hadn’t seen him in the crowd, but then again he had been too focused on the match to notice. Knowing him, there was a very real possibility that he might have closed up the store for today and come here to watch.

One way or another, he would enjoy today. He wouldn’t let any stupid thoughts or realizations take that from him. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and he’d be damned if he missed it thanks to any stupid case of the nerves.

He just needed to steer clear of Kiichi. And Mizuki too, probably.

But other than that, he would have the time of his life.

\---

Nobody on the team was going back to their rooms tonight.

Ooshiba stretched, glancing around the pile of teammates curled together on the floor or slumped in the chairs and couches, a few of them still awake, most others dozed off in various awkward positions all over the room, still wearing big, goofy smiles all over their faces. The cheers and noise and shouting had finally died down, giving way to a quiet sense of peace and complete, utter happiness.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, adjusting himself where he lay on the ground and yawning. He, too, was still floating on cloud nine, flying higher than the airplanes with pure, unfiltered joy. They had won. They had really, really won, all together. They were heroes. No, they were legends. He still couldn’t believe it, and the mere thought made him shaky all over again, jittery with more happiness than his body could contain. All of him wanted to jump up and run and shout, shout out his victory until he had no air left in his lungs, but it was too late for that now. He couldn’t even get up without waking at least half a dozen people. So all he could do was lie there on the floor, listening to the steady breaths of his teammates and wait for the flutter in his chest to subside.

The afternoon replayed in his head in all of its details, the goal he had scored, the look of absolute triumph on Kimishita’s face, the hug they had shared after the end of the match. He could almost feel him against his chest again, his arms around his back, smiling and laughing so openly he could barely believe it was him, proud and overjoyed, relaxing into his embrace as if nothing and no one had ever stood between them. He had never wanted this moment to end. He wished he could have stayed like that forever, lying on the grass with Kimishita in his arms, laughing and crying and simply being happy about everything in the world.

It hadn’t lasted, of course. Out of the blue Kimishita’s expression had changed, and he had scrambled out of the hug and away from him in a rush, refusing to stay near him or look him in the eye ever since. Ooshiba hadn’t thought too much of it earlier. Kimishita was easily embarrassed after all, and he had never been too comfortable with affection. It had only been natural that sooner or later his brain would catch up with the whole scene and the rest of him responded with the natural urge to flee. But the longer the evening had gone on, the longer Kimishita had seemed to avoid Ooshiba completely, the stranger it had started to seem.

Was something wrong after all?

Ooshiba’s eyes flitted over to Kimishita, resting on him where he lay curled up between Haibara, Inohara and a bunch of first-years, apparently fast asleep. Right now he looked perfectly okay. Peaceful, even. He wasn’t smiling like most of the others, but he looked calm, relaxed, too calm and relaxed for anything to be truly wrong.

And yet...

And yet something seemed off, something he didn’t know how to explain. Something about the way Kimishita had fled from the hug, the way he had refused to even look at him since. Had he not liked it? Had Ooshiba overstepped a boundary again? But Kimishita had agreed to let him hug him if they won the finals. And he had returned the hug. He had looked so happy. Everything had seemed so perfectly okay until he suddenly changed his mind from one second to the next.

Had he realized he wasn’t okay with this after all? Had he realized the only person he was comfortable hugging like this was Mizuki, his boyfriend?

It wasn’t going to be the kiss all over again... was it?

But it hadn’t been a kiss this time, he tried to tell himself. It had been a hug, one that had happened in a rush of post-victory emotion, no less. It was no big deal. No one would make a big deal out of it. Besides, Ooshiba repeated in his head for the millionth time, he had agreed to the hug. And he had liked it. Maybe he was just embarrassed, and soon he’d be back to normal.

But he had agreed to the kiss too, hadn’t he? And then afterwards...

 _Calm down,_  Ooshiba told himself. It’s a fucking hug.  _You’ve hugged before and he was always fine with it._

And yet he couldn’t relax. His gut feeling was telling him something was weird, seriously weird. And his gut feeling was never wrong. He trusted his instincts.

_Kimishita..._

Following a sudden impulse, he extended his hand, reaching out across his sleeping teammates’ heads as if he could touch him that way. Kimishita looked so happy in his sleep, so quiet and uncharacteristically calm. It was a rare sight, rare and precious somehow, like this image was a treasure few people ever got to see; even Ooshiba himself had never seen him asleep, in spite of all the times they had been forced to share a room back in middle school. Kimishita had always been the first to get up and the last to go to sleep back then, and Ooshiba had never managed to appreciate just how beautiful he looked when he was perfectly relaxed and happy.

If only he wasn’t so far away. If only he wasn’t lying on the opposite side of the room, impossible to reach without waking half the team. If only he could have fallen asleep next to Ooshiba, curled up like a kitten on the floor, breathing peacefully as his dark eyelashes fluttered shut and his ever-frowning features relaxed in his sleep, silky strands of hair spilling into his face like an invitation to brush them back with a gentle, careful hand. If only Ooshiba could simply extend a hand and run his fingers through that hair, feeling the soft strands between his fingers and brushing them back, letting his hand linger just to feel the connection between them a little longer. If only he could take his jacket and wrap it around his shoulders, adjusting it like a blanket to make sure Kimishita didn’t get cold. And maybe, he thought, just maybe he could inch a little closer and wrap an arm around him and bury his face in the back of his shirt.

He wanted to. He wanted it so badly it felt like a physical craving, as if some part of his body wasn’t here but asleep on the opposite side of the room. He wanted to have him close, wanted to touch him and hold him and feel the warmth of his body against his own. He wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up with him still in his arms, realize he didn’t have to get up yet and fall back asleep. He wanted to stay with him like that for an entire day, simply wasting it away doing nothing while winter continued on outside.

Happiness seemed so close, just a few footsteps, a few movements away. And yet he couldn’t cross that short distance. He was cut off from Kimishita, physically, emotionally. There was no use in reaching out his arm when he couldn’t reach over the rows and rows of people between them. He’d only cause trouble.

But he could still dream.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine the impossible in vivid detail while he drifted off to sleep.

\---

They came back as heroes, celebrated by the entire school when the bus came rolling back into Seiseki’s parking lot. They came back to cheers and shouts and banners, people crowding around them from all sides and congratulating them and yelling their names and trying to go through every detail of the tournament in vivid detail, people that Kimishita hadn’t realized cared about soccer at all. It was a happy scene, but it was loud, and when Kimishita found himself crowded by roughly fifteen people all trying to talk to him and get pictures or an autograph and treating him like a celebrity at once his last bit of pride disappeared and turned into the annoyance of an introvert who sensed his social battery rapidly draining. Muttering an excuse, he slipped through the crowd, hurrying to escape from their grasp to seek refuge with his father.

He was safe for a grand total of five seconds. Then a warm hand reached up to ruffle his hair, and he found himself pulled into a hug and patted roughly on the back, so roughly that he started to cough. “And there he is, my little champion!” his father shouted so loudly that people nearby turned around to stare. “Welcome home, Atsushi! Or should I say, the best high school midfielder in the country?”

Kimishita went pink, squirming feebly against the hug. “Wha–” he stuttered out, his eyes darting back and forth as if searching for anyone who might have heard. “That’s not– It’s not like I won by myself!”

“No buts. You won against the others, right?” His father’s grin spread all over his face, but Kimishita didn’t miss the pride and moved emotion shimmering underneath the surface. “Results are what matters. If you won, you’re the best!”

“Pops, that’s not how it–”

“He’s right though.”

Kimishita froze, flushing a glowing shade of red as he recognized the voice even before his father loosened the hug, letting him turn around. Every part of him was torn between sticking up his head with pride and the primal urge to disappear in the ground. “Kiichi!” he spluttered, glaring at the idiot who had seemingly popped up out of nowhere behind him just in time to drop this stupid compliment. “What are you doing here? Listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners, idiot!”

“Hey, I just said something nice to you.” Kiichi crossed his arms, pouting. “Be grateful, asshole.”

“The fuck should I be grateful for, huh? Don’t act like you just gave your lunch money to a beggar!”

“Boys, boys, no need to fight!”

Jumping, Kimishita shut his mouth as his father stepped between them with the cheeriest of smile. “Kiichi-kun, it’s been awhile! I saw all your matches though.” He patted a hand on his back. “Good job shocking even the TV commentator! Are the pro teams standing in line for you yet?”

This time it was Kiichi’s turn to blush. “Uh... not really.”

“They’re missing out! Well, just you wait till you become a third-year.” His father’s grin was so full of confidence it surprised even Kimishita. “Then they’ll be fighting over you!”

Kiichi didn’t say anything; he simply rested his eyes on Kimishita, his cheeks still a telltale shade of pink.

“What?” Kimishita said, unsure what to do with himself under the intensity of that gaze. “You want me to agree with him or something?”

“Shut up. I know he’s right.” Kiichi ran a hand through his hair, scowling. “I just thought it’s weird nobody’s asked for you yet.”

Kimishita jolted, torn between gaping at him in open shock and turning away to never look at him again. “Wha–?” he blurted out, struggling to regain his composure and send some attempt at a murderous glare in Kiichi’s direction. “What are you talking about, huh? Did that soccer ball that hit you in the head have lasting effects?”

“My head’s fine!” Kiichi shouted back. “But they gotta recognize how good you are! You’re my midfielder!” He pointed furiously at his chest. “I only accept the very best!”

 _My midfielder._  Damn it, that phrasing was doing things to him. Indescribable things. Unfair things. Did that guy even realize how much he was getting his hopes up? What was he doing, making Kimishita feel that way when he was madly in love with someone else?

This was so, so...  _annoying_.

“Your midfielder, my ass!” Kimishita scoffed, shooting Kiichi his most bitter, mocking glare. “There you go again, claiming ownership over people, huh? For the last fucking time, I’m not your property!”

Kiichi flinched. Something shot across his face, an emotion, but before Kimishita could fully comprehend it it was gone, hastily pushed behind a blank, expressionless mask.

“I know,” he said quietly, so quietly that only Kimishita could hear, but not so quietly that he missed the obvious bitterness in his voice. “You’re not mine. You’re just Captain’s.”

Kimishita’s mouth fell open, any and all responses choking in his throat. He wanted to reply something, but before he got the chance Kiichi turned around, bowed lightly to his father, and disappeared back in the crowd.

 _Go after him,_  the more lovestruck part of Kimishita’s mind urged. And he wanted to. He really wanted to go after Kiichi... and then what? Tell him he was wrong about Mizuki? Right here in the middle of everyone or what? Maybe he should just go and confess his love to him while he was at it?

But if that wasn’t an option, what should he do?

Hell, why on earth was the idiot still so hung up on him and Mizuki in the first place? He wasn’t unhappy in that relationship anymore. Not the way he had been before, at least. He was no longer the mess around Mizuki that he had been once, so why did Kiichi care? What the hell was his problem?

“Atsushi?”

Kimishita jolted out of his thoughts, unwilling to meet his father’s confused, questioning gaze. He knew what question he was about to ask, and honestly, he didn’t want to explain. It wasn’t like he knew what was going on himself in the first place.

“Don’t mind him,” he muttered, closing his eyes and clicking his tongue, trying to look a normal amount of annoyed instead of the irritation and confusion and hurt he was actually feeling. “He’s stupid like that.”

His father dropped the subject at that, but he continued to eye him with obvious concern on his face.

Kiichi didn’t come back. Kimishita didn’t know where he had disappeared to, but it was clear as day that he had left, and he wasn’t planning on returning anytime soon. Maybe he had gone home, Kimishita mused with a sigh. He could probably bury his hopes of seeing Kiichi again today, as much as he still wanted to. Might as well go home himself.

He opened his mouth to tell his father as much, but at that moment his gaze met with a familiar set of brown eyes across the crowd, and he froze into a pillar of stone.

What was he doing here? Feelings for Kiichi or no, his boyfriend was still Mizuki. How did that idiot always, always manage to distract him so much he forgot that?

Steeling himself for something he couldn’t name, he stepped forward, crossing the distance to meet Mizuki halfway. Some part of him wanted to leave. He didn’t want to see him right now. But manners were manners, and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the better of him just yet.

“Captain,” he said stiffly, willing himself to stop looking around the crowd and focus on Mizuki’s face.  _Kiichi isn’t here anymore,_  he told himself.  _And even if he was, it shouldn’t matter right now._

“Kimishita,” Mizuki replied, his expression stoic as usual, but somehow friendlier and happier than before the finals. “Are you going home already?”

 _Apparently that was the plan,_  Kimishita thought bitterly. He shut down that thought. Kiichi’s behavior wasn’t that much of a big deal. At least, it shouldn’t be.

“I think so,” he said instead, half wondering if Mizuki still wanted to do something with the whole team and if he could get an excuse to get Kiichi back here. “Unless I’m still needed here?”

Mizuki tilted his head and frowned, thinking hard, but then he shook his head. “Not really,” he said with a hearty pat on Kimishita’s shoulder. “Go home and rest. You’ve earned it.”

Kimishita wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Relieved, because he didn’t have to spend any more time with Mizuki and could sort out his thoughts by himself. Disappointed, because the faint hope he’d still had of seeing Kiichi again today had faded and disappeared into nothing.

 _This is your boyfriend, you idiot,_  the lost voice of reason protested in his head.  _What are you thinking?_

Right. Boyfriend. Right. His boyfriend... was Mizuki. Not Kiichi. He needed to remember that.

Should he suggest a date for tomorrow? They’d have the day off, and bringing it up would be all too easy right now. Spending more time with Mizuki had helped his head back on track before. It might help again.

Except... it hadn’t helped in the long run. It had healed the symptoms, but it hadn’t cured the cause. He was still in the same situation as he had been after Christmas, but this time it was worse. The same remedy that had seemed to work last time would be useless this time around.

Besides, he just honestly didn’t want to see Mizuki at the moment.

Sighing, he lowered his head, trying to muster some semblance of a smile and forcing his voice to sound normal. “Okay. You too, Captain.”

Mizuki returned the smile and waved. Kimishita waved back. Part of him waited for the same response this would have pulled out of him in the past, the butterflies, the elated feeling. Feeble as he knew it was, part of him still waited for a sign that he had been wrong after all, he still loved Mizuki and not Kiichi, some sort of sign that everything was normal after all.

But of course there was nothing, nothing except the nagging, clinging, creeping feeling that there should be  _something_  there.

When had this happened? When had this feeling gone and disappeared into nothing but thin air?

He tried to remember, but he couldn’t say. He couldn’t pinpoint a moment. At some point in time it had simply started to fade, into comfort at first, then into a gaping hole. All the feelings he had once had for Mizuki, all the love and admiration, the hopeless hopes and desperate wishes, had fallen through his hands and dissipated as soon as he had tasted the tiniest glimpse of fulfillment and happiness.

Were his feelings really that fickle? Did he always have to keep on falling for people he couldn’t have, over and over again?

Embarrassing as that would be, part of him hoped that was the case. Part of him hoped that was the only explanation, and if he kept on waiting long enough sooner or later his feelings would return back to Mizuki. Because that would still be a lot easier and less embarrassing and painful to deal with than... whatever the alternative meant.

And yet, deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. He knew his feelings for Kiichi were more than a fleeting crush. They were something he didn’t fully understand either, something huge and overwhelming but completely natural all the same. They weren’t based on attraction alone. They were based on so much more, affection and adoration and gratitude and unconditional trust and pride, the feeling of being safe and home and welcome and allowed to be himself. Kiichi wasn’t like Mizuki. He wasn’t someone he had to impress. He wasn’t someone he wanted to impress, even. He just wanted to be with him. And that was what scared him the most.

He was dating Mizuki. And Kiichi had someone he liked. Chasing after him would be nonsensical in every single way. Rationally, it would be better to leave things as they were and wait. But then why did that feel so... wrong?

Damn it all. It didn’t make sense.

Now that he understood his feelings, what in the world was he supposed to do?


	38. Which

Ooshiba flopped down on his bed, the last of his joy and triumph long gone and evaporated.

_You’re not mine. You’re just Captain’s._  Why on earth had he said that? It had been a moment’s impulse, a flash of frustration that had made him blurt that out, and now that he had calmed down he couldn’t help but feel stupid. What had Usui told him? Patience. Kimishita wasn’t his, and he wasn’t entitled to his love no matter what happened. Why had he suddenly relapsed into snapping at him like that?

Well, he thought as he balled up his fists, but Kimishita had started it. This was his fault. What the hell was up with those accusations? He had only called Kimishita his midfielder, dammit! In what universe was that the same as claiming ownership over him?

Honestly, that part of Kimishita was so frustrating. As much as he loved him, sometimes he really did get on every single one of his nerves, stressing him out and annoying him and infuriating him to no end. He was always like this. Distant. Irritable. Allergic to affection of any kind, pushing away anyone who got too close, anyone who tried to reach out and show him how much they liked him. Even on the rare occasions when he did allow people to come close to him, he pushed them away afterwards, turning on his heel and refusing to interact with them normally for a week straight.

He was so fed up with this. He was so fed up with this stupid, stupid attitude.

Why was he even in love with this guy, he wondered? He had always thought he gravitated only towards people who showed him enough attention, who openly admitted they liked him and didn’t make a big deal out of it. No self-respecting person, he had thought, would ever put up with Kimishita and his scratchy, indecisive, ever-angry attitude.

Maybe he really should forget him. After all, what was the point? Kimishita liked Mizuki, and Mizuki was the only one allowed to get close to him. As long as he was in the picture, nothing would change, and as long as nothing changed Ooshiba simply wouldn’t have a chance. Besides, he wasn’t even that great. He was harsh and distant and insufferable, and even on the off chance that they did manage to get together, their relationship would probably only consist of Ooshiba trying to reach out and Kimishita getting snappy at the most unpredictable times and pushing him away without warning.

And yet...

Memories flashed back through his head, so happy and hopeful and heartwarming he felt like they were mocking him. Kimishita awkwardly comforting him after his first heartbreak. Kimishita smiling at him whenever he succeeded at something. Kimishita grumbling and complaining but always helping him anyway, with soccer advice or something as simple as homework. Kimishita bickering with him without meaning the words, letting his amusement shine through when he couldn’t pretend to be angry any longer.

Kimishita, opening up to him and telling him things no one else was allowed to know. Kimishita showing up on his doorstep, apologizing to him, putting aside his pride to admit he had been right, sitting on his couch to talk to him, trusting him where he didn’t trust anyone else. Kimishita hugging him like he meant it. Kimishita coming to his house on Christmas Day even though he’d had a date with Mizuki, walking with him... agreeing to kiss him. Kimishita running to his house and back again to make up.

Kimishita... relaxing around him, showing his playful side, letting his inner child shine through and being who he really was, revealing a part of him that no one else knew but him.

Damn it, this wasn’t fair.

Why did this guy always have to keep getting his hopes up? Why did he act like that? Why did he always trust him so much, open up to him, make Ooshiba feel like he was special to him?

And why did he always have to fall for that?

It was so stupid. Kimishita was such a jerk, an insufferable jerk who couldn’t handle anything remotely to do with emotions. He was constantly snapping at Ooshiba and pushing him away when not Ooshiba but he himself was the problem. He was always letting his anger out on others. He gave Ooshiba every single reason to hate him, as he once thought he had, as he still should. And yet that was the very thing he couldn’t bring himself to do.

Because Kimishita wasn’t just that. Kimishita was so much more. He was grumpy and irritable and emotionally awkward, but he was a friend. He was kind. He was dedicated. He trusted Ooshiba with his life, and Ooshiba could do the same. And every time Ooshiba tried to forget that, every time he tried to tell himself he should just give up and move on as Kimishita himself had once advised him to, something happened to remind him of just that. Every time he tried to stop hoping, something got his hopes up again. And every time he got his hopes up, they got shattered on the spot once more.

He hated this. But he couldn’t stop it.

No... he didn’t want to stop it. He didn’t want these feelings to stop. It hurt, yes. It was painful and frustrating, watching Kimishita like this, happy with someone else and refusing to let anyone else close to him anymore. But he didn’t want this feeling to end. He didn’t want to move on from Kimishita. He couldn’t just put their history, their bond behind him and turn on his heel and leave,

What was wrong with him? Why was he making himself unhappy like this? And why did he  _like_  it? Was he really such a masochist? Or was he just desperate?

_If this is what you feel for him, Kimishita... then I’m sorry for you. I know how much it hurts. I wish you didn’t have to feel that pain too._

But maybe, just maybe, hopefully, in some distant, faraway dream, Kimishita’s feeling might not be as lasting as his own. And if they weren’t...

He didn’t dare hope. But he could always wish for it.

\---

What was he supposed to do?

Kimishita paced the room, sitting down briefly in his desk chair, then jumping up again and continuing to pace, back and forth, back and forth like a caged animal. The question that had been haunting the back of his mind since yesterday, the question that he had been trying so hard to push off until later had finally caught up with him, and now he was trapped, stuck with it in his room while the sun set and the shadows lengthened outside.

He knew about his feelings now. Denial had become futile, and the truth was glaring blatantly in his face, so obvious not even he could ignore it a second longer. His feelings for Mizuki had faded away at some point, and his feelings for Kiichi had grown, grown until it filled out all of him and pushed out any lingering attraction he had towards Mizuki. And now he was left with unwanted feelings and didn’t know what to do with them once more.

Oh, the irony. Hadn’t he fallen for Mizuki in a desperate attempt to get over Kiichi? And now he was dating Mizuki, he could be happier than ever before, and yet his heart had gone and returned back to Kiichi, the very same Kiichi who had tried to distract him from his heartbreak. Was that his lot? Did he always have to fall so hard for the people who were supposed to be nothing but the distraction?

Except... Kiichi had never been a distraction. Kiichi had been his first love, the person who had made him realize so much, about the world and about himself. Who, after an eternity of denial, had made him understand the reason why he had never understood his classmates’ talks about girls and crushes, why the assumption that he would eventually start dating a girl had made him so annoyed and uncomfortable. Kiichi had been a companion, a friend, an equal partner who he could yell at and still know that he would still be by his side tomorrow, stupid and endearing and frustratingly reassuring. A distant daydream, and yet always there, ever-present as a friend and unreachable as a lover.

He hadn’t fallen for Kiichi again because he had repeated his mistake of losing his heart to the distraction. He had simply remembered. Knowingly or not, Kiichi had done everything in his power to remind him of everything that had made him fall in love with him in the first place.

_You idiot,_  he thought, cracking a grim, bitter smile even as lonely fondness seeped through him.  _Are you happy with that? No distraction can work against you forever. Isn’t that what you always wanted?_

Well, if this was about attention alone, that much might be true. If it was simply about turning away from Mizuki and focusing on Kiichi once more, he knew the idiot would be delighted. But of course it wasn’t that easy. It never was.

Kimishita sat back down, only for his entire body to tense up, making him jump to his feet and continue pacing the room once more. This was going nowhere. Tossing and turning his own feelings back and forth and overanalyzing them in his mind wouldn’t help him solve the problem, it never had. It only freaked him out even more. He should get his mind off things.

Cursing under his breath, he rummaged through his bag, pulling out a stack of books and a pencil, opening the first one to try and continue studying where he had left off. He managed to focus for about thirty seconds. Then his thoughts drifted back, and he was left staring at the page without any idea what it said.

_For crying out loud!_

Throwing down his pencil, he jumped up again, searching his bag and his lone shelf for anything that could distract him. There was nothing. His mind was completely filled out with thoughts, thoughts he didn’t want to have.

_Relax. Calm down. Think. There has to be some way to clear your mind._

He’d had phases like this before. Ever since he had been about ten, he would sometimes have phases where his mind would start exploding, his thoughts rotating with questions upon questions that no amount of hard thinking could answer. Sometimes running would help; sometimes it also came with the side effect of overexerting himself and getting sick, and right now he would need a lot of running to calm down in the slightest, let alone come in the vicinity of clearing his head. His father would definitely stop him before it could help. So what else...?

His father’s voice echoed back through his mind, floating across to him from a distant memory.  _Have you tried writing down your thoughts? It’ll help put them in order._

He still didn’t like to believe that. It was like writing a diary, and that was for lovesick preteens with crushes on boy bands, or maybe for thirteen-year-olds in their edgy emo phase. And even if it wasn’t a proper diary, writing down thoughts still sounded a little too much like cheesy amateur psychologist advice to work.

And yet it had worked before. Besides, he was trying to make a decision here, and decisions were the best when he had at least a vague overview of all the pros and cons.

Yes, that was better. Writing down his thoughts sounded cringeworthy, but what he doing was decision-making. Addressing such an emotional issue with a list of pro and con arguments for each side was probably a bit of a strange thing to do, part of him thought, but if he wanted to calm down his nerves he should at least give it a try.

Grabbing a sheet of paper, he picked his pencil back up, twirling it in his hands and trying to figure out where to start. One option was clear, at least, and he drew a circle on one side of the paper to scribble down the words, S _taying with Captain_.

The question was, what should the other option be?

Breaking up should definitely be a part of it, that much was elementary. But what else? Just that? Should he add going after Kiichi to it? Did he even want to do that at all?

Screw it, he could figure that out later. In a second chart, for all he cared. Clicking his tongue at himself, he drew a second circle and filled it with the word  _Breakup_.

That had been the easy part.

And now... what next?

Next would be weighing the options, he supposed. If this was an argumentative essay, he would search arguments against his stance first, so he could better revoke them later. The problem was that he didn’t have the faintest idea what his stance was in the first place. It was himself he was trying to convince here, and that really made matters a whole lot more complicated.

Maybe he should start with the things that spoke for a breakup with Mizuki, just for the hell of it. It was what he was considering after all; the other option was simply the status quo. Not that this made things that much easier. But it was a beginning.

Well, the things that spoke for a breakup were... mostly his own sense of morals, really. Aware as he was that Mizuki was only dating him out of kindness, they were still dating, and he should feel and act accordingly. Couples didn’t stay together when one of them was in love with someone else; that only made people unhappy, and even if Mizuki wouldn’t mind, Kimishita would still feel awful about it. Besides, their relationship was now essentially a loveless one. The sole reason why they had become a couple had been Kimishita’s feelings for Mizuki, and now that they were gone, there was no reason for them to continue this thing. It would only feel awkward. He didn’t need it anymore, so he might as well break it off so that they’d go back to being friends, a casual, ordinary bond that, upon second thought, seemed to suit them so much better than any romance.

And besides, a small, persistent voice in him whispered, if he was single, he’d be officially able to go after Kiichi.

He shook off that thought. Nonsense. Nonsense and cheap fantasies. Kiichi wasn’t in love with him; he had someone else, and until he got over that person, pursuing him was out of the question. And knowing Kiichi, if he loved them this much, then getting over this heartbreak would take him forever.

Still, it might be better to be single when that happened, not still trapped in this relationship that had lost its point–

Kimishita shook his head, clicking his tongue at his own stubbornness. Nonsense! Even if Kiichi did eventually get over his hopeless, distant love, who said he could possibly fall for him? Kiichi liked  _girls_. His first crush back in middle school had been a girl. And even now Kimishita would bet his entire fortune that the person he currently loved was female too. He might have been fine with hugging Kimishita as a replacement, with kissing him, even, but those times had been pretend. Kiichi would never go and kiss him like that if it was about the real thing.

But with the way he had acted recently... maybe...

_Forget it. You’re overinterpreting things. There’s a perfectly logical explanation for all his behavior, and it’s not that he’s into you. Would he tell you about his one-sided feelings if you were the one they were for? Face reality, stupid!_

Kiichi would never see him as anything other than a friend. He never had, and he never would.

Damn it, the thought hurt. It hurt. It hurt too much to be true, clenching into his chest and around his heart to crush it in its palm and leave it cracking and crumbling to bits. His chest hurt. Physically. He couldn’t locate the pain, he couldn’t describe it, but it was  _there_ , twisting and clawing and tearing at him from the inside.

So this was how it felt. Feeling emotional pain manifesting physically, the same thing he had explained to Kiichi so long ago. He hadn’t thought he was capable of feeling this way. He had always thought he wasn’t emotional enough for that, that the worst he could feel physically was stress or exhaustion. He hadn’t expected...  _this_. And it wasn’t even rejection from Kiichi. It wasn’t separation, or seeing him with someone else, or one of the other things people usually got heartbroken over. It was a thought. A single, stupid, persistent thought.

A thought that was bound to be the truth, though.

And that, he thought, was the other side of it all. He might not be in love with Mizuki anymore, but at least he was in a relationship with him, and aside from the feelings aspect things were going well between them. Was he really willing to throw all that away over someone who was single-mindedly pining after someone whose identity he didn’t even know? If he focused hard enough, if he blocked out Kiichi and distanced himself and spent as much time as he could with Mizuki then maybe his feelings might even come back, and he might forget about Kiichi once more. It had worked before. Temporarily, but that could be enough to find some other way to get over this giant mess, once and for all.

Except he had made the mistake of distancing himself from Kiichi before. It had been a mistake that had made them both unhappy, and he honestly, truly didn’t want to repeat it again. Messy feelings aside, Kiichi was precious to him, an important friend and companion he didn’t want to give up. They had fallen out enough times, and it had almost always been his fault. If he really wanted to get over him, he’d have to do it some other way. But he wouldn’t push him away again. Not if he could help it. Not now. Not ever.

Fine, so maybe he wouldn’t forget about Kiichi. Maybe he would keep pining after him until a miracle occurred, but he still wouldn’t be alone. He would have Mizuki. He would have a functioning relationship, at least on the surface, some pretense of being loved until he figured out something better or met someone who actually returned his feelings. He might be drawn to Kiichi, but that alone wasn’t worth throwing this relationship away. Not yet, in any case.

Or was it?

What if he did stand a chance? What if, even if Kiichi wasn’t in love with him now, pursuing him might change his mind?

But what on earth were the odds of that?

Kimishita muttered a curse. These stupid doubts. He hated them, this uncertainty, this confusion that kept seeping into his mind and stopping him from making a clear decision. His course was cut clear. His choice had been made. He knew what was better for him, at least for the time being, but his stupid, useless idiot brain wouldn’t stop running through scenarios that were never going to happen.

Staring down at his notes, he scanned over the pros and cons again, deliberately not dwelling on the pros of a breakup for any longer than absolutely necessary. He knew what to do now. Well, maybe that wasn’t the best way to phrase it, but at least he had made his choice.

He wasn’t breaking up with Mizuki. And if possible, he wasn’t dwelling too long on Kiichi but trying to forget about–

His phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with an incoming message.

Kimishita reached for it before his brain could catch up. And instantly regretted it. The message flashing so brightly on the screen was from none other than Kiichi.

_hey_

Kimishita was just about to ask himself if he should reply, but when he opened the message thread it showed Kiichi typing, and a series of messages popped up on the screen in quick succession.

_abt earlier_

_like. abt hte_

_the thing earlier. th_

_FUCK!! U KNOW THE THIGN_

_HWERE ISAID U WERE CAPTAINS. THAT THING_

There was a longer pause after this, but Kimishita didn’t put his phone down. He continued to stare at the screen, waiting for whatever message was about to appear.

_ijust.. wanted to say i didnt mean that. it sliped out but i think your eyours not captains so idk. sorry or some shit_

_so dont start sulking aagin_

Kimishita didn’t do anything. He simply stared at the screen, and he didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was very, very, very red.

There was so much he could comment on right now. Kiichi’s typos. His clumsy manner of apologizing. His way of chopping up the message into a dozen smaller ones when he could have just sent one long one. There was so much he could tease him about. And yet he didn’t want to. He simply didn’t feel like it.

Kiichi had apologized to him. Not only that, but he had gone through the trouble of messaging him instead of simply confronting him when they were back at school. And Kimishita hadn’t even yelled at him for saying these things, let alone given him the cold shoulder or shown any other signs of anger.

Kiichi... had been worried about upsetting him with his words. He had been worried about hurting him.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it–

Pushing away his phone, he grabbed his pencil again, taking his list of notes and scribbling it out, scrawling  _FUCK IT_  across the paper in the largest letters he could write. So much for his resolve. So much for anything. He had just come to a decision, and there Kiichi went again, turning everything upside down.

What should he do? What should he do? What should he do?

His phone buzzed again. For a second Kimishita almost considered ignoring the message. Then curiosity got the better of him, and he picked it back up to see a very simple sentence.

_ANSWER ME ASSHOLE I SEE U ONLINE_

Kimishita snorted. Now that was more like the Kiichi he knew. And somehow that very thought was enough to momentarily relieve the tension built up in his chest.

_So what?_  he texted back, smirking to himself as he typed.  _You have any idea how long it takes to decipher your unintelligible bullshit?_

_THE FUCKS THAT MEAN_

_It means learn to type, idiot! Maybe I’d respond faster if I didn’t have to navigate through all the fucking typos!_

Kiichi started typing again, and Kimishita sighed. This guy was really the worst. How could someone freak him out beyond explanation and calm him down from that same freakout at once? And yet, here he was. Letting Kiichi influence all his moods like some idiot.

So maybe he wasn’t ready to break off his relationship with Mizuki yet. He definitely wasn’t ready to try anything with Kiichi either, but he wouldn’t give up just yet. And that left only one solution. One that had been in his face all this time, and somehow he hadn’t seen it.

Sighing to himself, he picked up the paper again, took the last free corner and wrote, with a much steadier hand,  _Wait and see._


	39. Clingy

For the time being, waiting and seeing seemed to be going okay.

Kimishita and Kiichi texted back and forth for the entire evening. At first it was their usual bickering banter, then they slowly drifted off to more serious topics, talking about nationals, the team, everything that had happened in the past two weeks. They talked about the future, about the upcoming decisions of who should be the next captain and vice-captain. Kiichi was still fully convinced it couldn’t be anyone other than himself, and honestly Kimishita agreed with him. Having a single-minded idiot for a captain had worked well enough this year. Besides, Kiichi was getting nicer and more approachable, more patient and smarter, and the person he was right now would definitely be cut out for the role. Kiichi was becoming someone who could gather people behind him. Someone who could lead them to new victories in the future.

Admitting all that was embarrassing, of course. Kimishita still poked fun at Kiichi’s confidence; that was his job after all, making sure the idiot didn’t float away on his overinflated ego. But in the end he couldn’t hide that, if he truly did become captain, he would always support him.

That was all he had been meaning to convey. He hadn’t expected anything else. So when Kiichi’s next messages appeared on the screen, he nearly dropped his phone onto the desk in front of him.

_so wehn i become captain_

Kimishita was just about to call him out on his overconfidence when the next message made him stop in his tracks.

_Will u be my vice-captain?_

Kimishita gave a jolt. His hands lost their grip on the phone, grappling with it in a panicked attempt to keep it from falling down. Was he serious? This was a joke, wasn’t it? Another one of Kiichi’s mocking attempts at politeness... It had to be one. After all, him, a vice-captain? Leading a team? Babysitting a bunch of brats and soccer idiots? Not even Kiichi would trust him with a job like that, would he?

And yet there was that typing style, that sudden improvement in spelling, the proper capitalization and punctuation. It was like Kiichi was being formal all of a sudden. He didn’t do that for no reason.

He was being serious, was he?

Kimishita’s face flushed hot. His hands grew sweaty and clammy. What should he say to that? What should he do?

Vice-captain. That was a big responsibility, he knew that. It meant looking after the team, keeping an eye on everyone, turning his eye inwards when he had been so used to only looking at the rival teams. He’d have to get along with people. He’d have to be ready to take on the captain’s position in case Kiichi couldn’t play in a match. And... he would be the person who would always have to have Kiichi’s back, no matter if the entire rest of the world stood against him.

Well, that last part was something he could do. It was something he would do anyway, vice-captain or not.

The rest, however... the rest looked like it would prove difficult.

 _Not sure,_  he wrote back, half of him cringing at his own honesty, the other half calling him an idiot for caring about that when he had confided much more personal feelings in Kiichi.  _You really think I'd be suited for that?_

There was a beat of silence, then Kiichi started typing, and this time he typed for a much longer time than usual. Kimishita squirmed. Should he have kept his concern to himself after all? Kiichi seemed to be struggling with the reply–

Then the reply popped up, and Kimishita was hit over the head with a wall of text.

 _what t he FUCK did u jst say?_  it read.  _U NOT SUITED FOR W HAT?? ur smart right? ur respnsible and htat shit RIGHT? WHAT MORE DO U NEED? And dont start w that u cant handle ppl bullshit bc U CAN FUCKIGN LEARN BC LEARNINGS WHAT UR GOOD AT! RIGHT?? if u wnana do the job dont say no jsut bc u think ucant do it!!_

Kimishita stared at the message for a full minute. Something inside him felt warm, warm and giddy and stupidly light. Then a grin made its way onto his face, and he snorted and started laughing.

 _Idiot,_ he texted back.  _What kind of stupid motivational speech is that supposed to be?_

There was a short pause as it sent, and when the reply appeared Kimishita couldn’t help imagining Kiichi looking the way he always did when he had been caught being too nice to someone, awkwardly averting his gaze and running a hand through his hair as he grumbled something unintelligible.  _its true tho_

This idiot. How many cheesy shounen manga series did one have to read to fabricate a speech like this? Definitely too many. His sudden niceness was embarrassing, but it was adorable too, the way he got so worked up over the slightest hint of doubt Kimishita expressed. It wasn’t even like he was truly doubting himself. He genuinely wasn’t sure of his limits when it came to this task. And here Kiichi was, so convinced of Kimishita’s abilities that he’d throw a fit when he so much as thought of questioning them.

He was so  _cute_. He was precious. And it felt so good to be able admit that to himself and not feel the need, the obligation to rationalize it away and play it down out of a misplaced sense of duty. Kiichi was being adorable right now. And Kimishita loved him.

 _If you say so,_  he wrote, rolling his eyes but unable to stop the cheesy smile on his face.  _Still, it’s up to Coach to decide on the captain and vice-captain. Don’t throw a fit if he picks Satou or Suzuki instead._

There was a very, very long pause. If it wasn’t for the typing bubble appearing and disappearing and reappearing on Kiichi’s end, Kimishita would have thought he had left the conversation entirely.

Then, finally, another message appeared, and for the time Kiichi had spent typing it was surprisingly short.

_i wont accept any other vicecap than u_

Kimishita did drop his phone this time.

He gave a gasp, closing his eyes and opening them again, but nothing changed about the image in front of his eyes. Something felt strange in his chest. Not painful. Just... strange. Like it was clenching together and swelling with emotion at the same time, an emotion he couldn’t name or explain. He could picture Kiichi so vividly, saying this line. His arms crossed, his eyes averted, his cheeks pink but his voice unapologetic, embarrassed but completely honest at the same time. He could almost hear his voice in his head. And... it was doing something to him that he couldn’t comprehend.

But if he had to pick a comparison, it felt like Kiichi’s words had shot straight through his heart.

Sighing, he buried his face in his arms, raking fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm down. One message. One stupid message. That had been all it took to make him dizzy. He wanted to smile and laugh and yell at himself all at the same time, flustered and happy and overwhelmed and giddy and frightened all at the same time. Frightened by how happy he was. Afraid of anything and everything this situation might imply, options he didn’t want to think about at all.

He was terrified, terrified of his own happiness, terrified of the way one single sentence from Kiichi had been enough to sweep him off his feet like this. He was terrified of his own weakness, the way the tiniest thing could send him floating on cloud nine or crashing down into the darkest abyss, how easy it was for him to fall for one small display of trust, one hint that he might be special to Kiichi. He was afraid of overinterpreting things and jumping to conclusions and getting his hopes up where there was nothing to hope. And... most of all, as he stared at the message and tried to come up with a response, he was terrified that even though he knew he didn’t stand a chance, he had just managed to forget all about reason and hope anyway.

 _You idiot,_  he told himself.  _This is the crush filter trying to make you interpret everything in your favor. He isn’t in love with you. He has someone else, remember?_

Of course he did. Of course he did. How could he forget?

_Kiichi is an affectionate person in general. When he likes and trusts a person enough, he tends to get clingy. You’ve seen how he is with Satou. You know how he was in middle school. You of all people should know that this doesn’t have to mean anything._

Kimishita cursed under his breath. “I know,” he hissed. “I know that!”

Kiichi wasn’t like him. He wouldn’t keep all his displays of affection reserved for just one special person, and he didn’t beat around the bush with his emotions. When he felt something, he let it show. Kiichi would never bottle up and hide his feelings the way Kimishita did.

If it was him Kiichi was in love with... he probably would have confessed already. Even just to get him to end things with Mizuki.

...Right?

_Stop thinking._

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita picked up his phone and wrote what was hopefully the last message for this evening.  _Clingy sap. Grow up._

\---

Ooshiba flopped down backwards on the bed, dropping the phone beside him with a frustrated huff.

He shouldn’t be feeling like that, really. Kimishita’s reaction had been only natural, and he didn’t know what else he should have expected. Especially from Kimishita. Should he have been happy about this? Excited? Flattered and honored? He wasn’t one for feeling these things when faced with affection, or compliments, or anything else that implied that people liked and appreciated him, as a soccer player and as a person. At least not with Ooshiba.

 _Clingy sap. Grow up._  Those words were anything but unexpected, and yet they still hurt. Ooshiba had been completely honest here, conveying what he truly felt without any cover-ups or excuses, so couldn’t Kimishita at least have tried to be more tactful? Even if he truly found it annoying to be special to Ooshiba, couldn’t he at least have pretended to be even a little happy?

Even if... he truly found it annoying to be special to Ooshiba...

_If Captain had said this, I bet he’d have melted on the spot._

Ooshiba clenched his fists. Moments replayed through his head, one after another. Every time Kimishita had refused to pass to him but sent the ball to Mizuki instead, over and over, telling Ooshiba he simply wasn’t as likely to not flunk it while giving Mizuki hundreds and thousands of chances no matter how often he failed. Every time Kimishita rejected a compliment from Ooshiba, refused his affection, only to turn around and soak up both when they came from Mizuki. The time Kimishita had avoided him all day after the kiss, even though the only reason he had rejected one from Mizuki was a misplaced sense of duty.

_It was disgusting! So don’t even think of trying to do this with me again, got it? Ever!_

Kimishita had apologized for that one afterwards, granted. But now he wasn’t letting Ooshiba as close to him anymore. It was like the kiss had made him realize how much better Mizuki was, and now he had put up his walls, trying not to stray to the side and ruin his relationship with someone who didn’t even love him back in the first place.

Ooshiba didn’t understand. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand. What was it Mizuki had that he didn’t have? What was he doing wrong, and what was Mizuki doing right without realizing it at all? How was any of this in any way fair?

Maybe he should become a jerk too, part of him thought bitterly. Maybe if he acted like he didn’t like Kimishita at all, he might stand a chance. It had worked for Mizuki just fine, hadn’t it?

Except... he couldn’t do that. Hiding his feelings wasn’t something he could just do without batting an eye. When he felt something, he felt it strongly, and what he felt for Kimishita was so strong he had to actively keep himself from acting on it, simply going up to him and kissing him on the spot, or blurting out he loved him, and messing up everything. The sole thought of pretending not to like Kimishita was painful, so painful that he knew he could never pull through with it.

 _But then I don’t stand a chance,_  the bitter part of him thought.  _He’s never gonna go after a clingy sap like me._

Still better than being a jerk to Kimishita and hurting him though.

Damn it, what should he do? It felt tempting to revert back to his old ways and blame Kimishita for all this mess, shoving it all on his terrible taste, so tempting. And yet that was the one thing he couldn’t do anymore. It hadn’t helped anyone. The only thing that had helped, the only thing that had temporarily brought him closer to Kimishita was understanding and unconditional support.

So he would have to carry on, he supposed. Be nice and supportive and patient, staying trapped in the friendzone, hoping and waiting for the day Kimishita finally realized who it was that truly loved him with all his heart. Maybe they would at least get closer again. Maybe Kimishita would at least allow him to be Mizuki’s replacement again in the meantime, coming to him when he craved the affection that Mizuki couldn’t offer.

Until then, he probably had no choice but to keep his distance and wait until Kimishita was comfortable with getting close to him again.

\---

Kiichi didn’t message him again that evening. At first Kimishita was glad, relieved that he didn’t have to respond to anything anymore and that he didn’t need to panic about any unexpected displays of kindness and loyalty or worry about hiding his feelings. But as the evening turned to night, more and more often he found himself checking his phone, half expecting to find another message against all odds, disappointed when he didn’t. He didn’t understand himself. He was the one who had cut off the conversation with Kiichi, so why did he suddenly miss him?

He tried to ignore his feelings, but when he woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was check his messages again even though he knew Kiichi was most likely still asleep at this time of the day. There was nothing after showering and getting dressed, nothing after breakfast, and when he made his way downstairs to watch the store despite his father’s protests, he took his phone with him, placing it next to him on the desk and frequently looking up from his book to throw a glance at the screen, willing it to light up with a message against all odds. But the screen stayed dark, never lighting up, never making a sound, simply lying there on the desk in complete silence.

Kimishita shouldn’t be surprised, he knew. He had given Kiichi no reason to message him again, and they would see each other again tomorrow anyway, so anything that wasn’t extremely time-sensitive could wait until then. It wasn’t like they talked to each other every day, not by a long shot. Not even now that they were so close. This was normal, no matter how much he disliked it.

And yet... he was somehow uncomfortable.

Maybe it was just that he missed Kiichi. In the past weeks they had constantly been around each other, crossing paths every day, without days off or interruptions. It was something Kimishita could get used to, and perhaps, without noticing it, he already had. And now that he wasn’t seeing him anymore, even if it was just for a day, he couldn’t help feeling incomplete, like some part of him had wandered off and gone missing, refusing to return until tomorrow, a tomorrow that suddenly seemed ages away. Texting him yesterday had felt so comfortable, so right, so perfectly welcoming and home-like that he already regretted bringing the conversation to an end. If he hadn’t, maybe they would have talked longer. They might have stayed up half the night talking about stupid things like a pair of preteens, or maybe they would have wished each other a good night before going to sleep and continued the conversation the with a good morning the next day. They might have continued to talk all through today, simply sending each other messages back and forth in between their daily chores.

Maybe he regretted not getting to do all these things, he thought. Or maybe... maybe he was simply worried.

Maybe he was questioning yesterday’s response after all, and that was why he was hoping for a message from Kiichi so badly. Maybe he was afraid of having pushed him away too hard, sending off the wrong message, like he had with his freakout after the kiss back then. Maybe he was scared that Kiichi wouldn’t try to text him again after this, that his reaction had scared him off and put some distance between them once more.

Then again, Kiichi had never been deterred before. He had always come back. It was going to be fine. It always had.

It wasn’t like Kimishita had to worry about pushing away someone he’d otherwise stand a chance with, after all.

\---

The next day rolled around, and still there had been no new messages from Kiichi.

Kimishita had mostly stopped worrying, quietly accepting that they simply didn’t have to talk to each other every day and resorting to looking forward to school instead. They still wouldn’t have practice, but hopefully they would at least see each other today, in the hallways or in the cafeteria or anywhere else. He would keep an eye out. Any short contact was fine, as long as they didn’t go without seeing each other at all.

But Kiichi wasn’t at school yet when he arrived. He wasn’t in his classroom that Kimishita peeked into in passing as he went into his own, and he wasn’t in the locker rooms or on the pitch because he had forgotten about practice being canceled either. Kimishita lingered in the doorway of his classroom for some time, then he started feeling ridiculous and grudgingly retreated to his seat, wishing he could look into the hallway from there and half-heartedly hoping that Kiichi might peek into the room before class, only to quickly discard that thought. He probably wouldn’t. After all, why should he unless he was behind on some homework he badly needed help with before class?

And indeed he didn’t show up, and as class started Kimishita’s mood dropped rapidly. Damn it. He had really been looking forward to seeing him, he realized, and he had counted on running into him as soon as possible way too much.

Oh well. That still left the hallways. And lunch break. He’d just have to stay on the lookout.

The day crawled on. Classes seemed to be so much slower than usual. Whenever he wasn’t busy taking notes Kimishita caught himself glancing at the clock, willing it to move faster so the class would end already. In each break he would go outside the classroom, pretending to read something on his phone in the hallway while looking out for Kiichi, but there was no sign of him. One hour after the other ticked by, until at last it was lunch break, and without a second thought he grabbed his lunch box from his bag and marched down into the cafeteria.

At first he didn’t see anyone. He only saw a crowd, dozens upon dozens of faces wherever he looked, unfamiliar faces and faces he vaguely recognized, but none of them were the one he was looking for. There was no red hair here, no bright eyes and pouty lips that caught his gaze, no broad shoulders rising above the crowd to stand taller than anyone else. Was he too early? Was Kiichi not here yet?

Kimishita was just about to turn around and look elsewhere– then he spotted him. Leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling away on his phone, he stood alone, waiting for someone who wasn’t there yet. For a split second Kimishita wondered if that someone might be him. He dismissed the thought. Kiichi always ate lunch with Satou; most likely he was waiting for him, and Kimishita hadn’t crossed his mind at all. And yet, as he watched him standing there waiting for whoever, Kimishita couldn’t stop the urge to walk over and approach him.

As if on cue, Kiichi glanced up on his phone. Across the crowded cafeteria their eyes met, and Kiichi pushed himself off the wall and started heading towards him before Kimishita had a chance to react.

Kimishita tensed up. Something fluttered inside his chest. Part of him wanted to flee the place.

The stronger part, however, wanted to stay. This was Kiichi, after all. Not Mizuki, who he constantly had to impress. Just Kiichi.

He just hoped he hadn’t made things between them awkward somehow.

“Hey,” Kiichi said, coming to a stop in front of him, staring down at his face with an unreadable look. “What’s up?”

“The ceiling,” Kimishita replied sarcastically. “Not much, idiot. We only saw each other two days ago, what should be up since then?”

Kiichi just shrugged, avoiding his gaze and looking a little embarrassed. “Dunno.”

Kimishita sighed. There was a moment’s silence.

Part of Kimishita wondered if this was it, and he should turn away and leave again. Standing here in awkward silence felt more and more weird with every passing second, more and more uncomfortable. The other part of him desperately tried to think of something to say.

“Whatcha doing in the cafeteria?” Kiichi asked at last, running his hand through his hair. “Getting something for someone again?”

 _Looking for you._  Like hell Kimishita could say that.

“Not today,” he grumbled, and his ears heated up as he felt Kiichi’s gaze on him, questioning and somehow too curious for comfort. “I just... somehow ended up here, I guess.”

He fully expected Kiichi to start bugging him about how he could just accidentally end up in the cafeteria when he never went here unless he had to, but there were no stupid questions or smug remarks. Kiichi just nodded, his expression still strange, somehow bright in a way Kimishita didn’t understand.

“Okay,” he said, still looking stiff and a little embarrassed, but now excitement mingled into his expression. “So since you’re here already, wanna eat w–”

Something crossed his face, and he visibly flinched. The look of excitement disappeared from his features. A shadow fell over his eyes as he lowered his head, his voice quiet and somehow remote.

“Never mind.”

Kimishita gave a start. “What the–”

“Hideki!” Kiichi shouted over his shoulder at Satou, who was taking a seat at one of the tables. “I’ll be right there!”

And before Kimishita could say another word he was gone, hurrying away and sitting down next to Satou, pointedly not looking in Kimishita’s direction. Even from behind he looked uncomfortable, unhappy somehow.

This time Kimishita wouldn’t hesitate. He would go after him...

...or should he? Wouldn’t that just make his feelings obvious?

But right now Kiichi had held back, hadn’t he? He had wanted to ask him something and stopped mid-sentence. Shouldn’t he try to get the question out of him since Kiichi had been too scared to utter it by himself?

But why had Kiichi been scared of saying something to him in the first place? That wasn’t like him at all!

Had he messed things up?

Should he–

“Kimishita?”

_Mizuki._

Kimishita froze. Of course.

At school he was still supposed to have lunch with his boyfriend, wasn’t he?


	40. Creep

Ooshiba stuffed his face with his lunch, caring little what he ate. He shoveled it down his throat as fast as he could, barely chewing, almost suffocating himself with the food, his eyes locked firmly on the lunch in front of him. He felt stupid, so stupid. But he didn’t know what he should have done either.

He had wanted to invite Kimishita along, he really had. He had been so close. After all that time of seeing each other every day, sharing three meals a day together and constantly running into each other in matches, at practice and in the corridors, he had missed Kimishita. One single day without him had already felt lonely. Not seeing him all day today had been a struggle. And he had really, really, really meant to spend time with him.

_Clingy sap._  The words had shot through him like an arrow, silencing him on the spot. He shouldn’t after all. Kimishita already found him clingy. He needed to give him distance, or he’d only annoy him and scare him away. How much distance, he didn’t know. Would it have been okay to ask him after all? Or had simply approaching him already been clingy?

He didn’t understand, damn it. He had never found anyone clingy in his life. How was he supposed to get how much distance other people needed?

“You okay?”

Ooshiba barely registered the words at first. A hand waved in front of his face, and he jolted upright to blink at Hideki, who had put down his chopsticks to watch him with a concerned frown. “You look out of it,” he said. “Did something happen between you and Kimishita just now?”

Jolting in his seat, Ooshiba choked on his food and reflexively turned to glance at the spot where Kimishita had stood. He wasn’t there anymore. Figured. He never ate lunch here after all, so why should he have stayed? Ooshiba wished he had. But of course that was only a wish. A wish that would probably be much too clingy for Kimishita’s tastes.

“Nothing,” Ooshiba said as he gulped down his mouthful. “Just hungry.”

Hideki gazed at him for a very long moment, long enough for Ooshiba to understand that he wasn’t convinced. Then he sighed and picked up his chopsticks, pushing food around on his plate. “If you say so,” he said. “Then maybe I should’ve invited him to have lunch with us or something, since he’s here already.”

Ooshiba dropped his chopsticks. Hope stirred in his chest. “You, uh...” He turned away to avoid looking too excited in front of Hideki. “You can. If you wanna.”

“Missed the chance. Now it’s too late, look.”

Swallowing, Ooshiba followed Hideki’s gaze to one of the tables on the opposite side of the cafeteria, where Kimishita was just sliding into one of the seats. But he wasn’t alone anymore. Sitting down across from him, lunch box in hand, was none other than Mizuki.

Mizuki. Of course. Of  _course_.

Ooshiba clenched his fist, forcing his face to stay blank and not reveal any of the emotions burning up in his chest, the disappointment and pain and bitter, bitter jealousy. Mizuki was allowed to do this, of course. Mizuki didn’t have to worry about being clingy. Because Mizuki was someone Kimishita wanted, and Ooshiba had just been the cheap generic-brand replacement until he managed to open up around the real thing.

“I mean,” Hideki continued casually, “we could always join them–”

“No.” Ooshiba didn’t care anymore; right now he was just angry, and he didn’t want to bother with hiding it for the moment. “Fuck them. Let’s eat.”

Always the same. Always the same.

Ooshiba didn’t know what to do anymore. He simply didn’t know. He had tried everything Usui had told him. He had been kind and patient and loyal. He had been there for Kimishita, tried to make him feel loved, and yet... nothing. Whatever he did, the results were always the same. Kimishita never changed. His feelings never changed, and like some sort of martyr he constantly came running back to Mizuki over and over again.

It was like being stuck in a loop. Ooshiba was running in circles. And the more he tried, the less he understood. Kimishita... and himself.

Why did he keep doing this?

Because he loved Kimishita, of course. Because he wanted to be with him, because he was desperate. And all those feelings wouldn’t change. But acting on them... at this point acting on them hurt. It hurt to constantly try and reach out to Kimishita, constantly needing to expect rejection avoidance for days on end, hoping to be tolerated, just this once. Only ever being tolerated when Kimishita was starved for affection he couldn’t get from Mizuki, just to be rejected and yelled at as soon as he had his fill.

Maybe... it was better to stop reaching out to him. Nothing good ever seemed to come from it, anyway.

So maybe he was supposed to stay patient. Maybe he should really stay by Kimishita’s side and be nice and supportive while hoping for the off chance that someday he might see the light. So what? He was fed up with this. He was sick and tired of being hurt. He’d had it with being the endless target of Kimishita’s endless lash-outs. He’d had it with being ignored and yelled at and insulted at any given second, constantly pushed away in favor of someone else. He’d been trying to be patient. He really had. But he was getting so sick of this.

Maybe, he thought, he really should stay away for some time. Not be a jerk to him or anything. Just keep his distance and see what would happen. After all, maybe it would really help to give Kimishita a taste of his own medicine.

If he even noticed or cared at all.

\---

Kimishita glanced over his shoulder, feeling guilty and uncomfortable for reasons he didn’t want to put into words. He wasn’t sure if he felt worse about not going after Kiichi and choosing to sit with Mizuki or about constantly peering in Kiichi’s direction when he was supposed to be eating lunch with his boyfriend, and that lack of clarity only helped make his guilt multiply. At least he had convinced Mizuki that they didn’t have to eat somewhere alone and the cafeteria was fine. Sitting in the middle of a crowd freed him from the obligation to act like a boyfriend, and right now sitting too close to Mizuki or feeding each other bits of their lunch or kissing him was the very last thing he wanted.

Tearing his gaze from Kiichi’s back, he turned back to his lunch, taking a bite more to keep Mizuki from worrying than out of any kind of appetite. No use in staring. Kiichi wasn’t turning around. He kept sitting with his back to him, probably not even noticing he was still there. After all, why should he? He was already eating with Satou. His best friend, who he never seemed to have any problems or misunderstandings with...

Wait a minute. Was he  _jealous_?

Of Satou? That was absurd. Kiichi and Satou were friends, yes, close friends, but Kimishita was Kiichi’s friend too. What on earth was his problem? It wasn’t like he wanted to be his only friend or anything!

But... he wanted to be special to him. And seeing Kiichi with Satou like this, completely ignoring the world around him in favor of his friend, was a reminder that he wasn’t. He was yet another friend. He was replaceable.

Kimishita closed his eyes. What was he thinking about? He was with Mizuki right now. His boyfriend. What kind of idiot boyfriend thought about someone else when he was with his significant other? Mizuki might not want him any more than Kiichi did, but he was here because he thought Kimishita wanted him. If he didn’t at least pay some attention to him, he’d only be wasting his time.

_What am I doing?_

This was absurd. Why was he still doing this? He couldn’t even pretend to focus on Mizuki when he was right in front of him. This was objectively a waste of time. Wouldn’t it be better to simply call this off? Mizuki was only in this because he thought it would make Kimishita happy anyway. If it couldn’t make him happy anymore, why should he continue leeching off the captain’s kindness?

He should pull the brakes. Call it quits, because this was nothing but a masquerade by now. It was completely and utterly pointless.

“Captain,” he began, ignoring the anxiousness twisting and knotting up inside him as soon as he opened his mouth. “After prac–”

Mizuki looked up from his lunch, crumbs on his face, both cheeks stuffed with food like a hamster. “Hm?”

Kimishita swallowed. Words left him for a second. Under Mizuki’s innocent, questioning stare he suddenly didn’t know what to say anymore.

His eyes flitted back towards Kiichi, searching for some sort of encouragement, an affirmation to go on, a sign that what he was about to do was the right thing. But Kiichi still sat with his back to him. He didn’t move. He didn’t turn around, glancing over his shoulder and meeting his eye.

Why wasn’t he turning around? Kimishita wanted to exchange a glance with him, just one, no matter how short. And yet he didn’t want to be caught staring. If only there was a way, some way to gain Kiichi’s attention without being so obvious and revealing his feelings to everyone around. Some way that didn’t involve going up to him directly and exposing himself to a dozen questions from Mizuki and Satou and Kiichi himself, question he wouldn’t want to answer if his life depended on it.

No use worrying about it. He should finish what he started. Once he did, there was no going back. And scary as that was, it was exactly what he needed right now.

“After practice,” he said quietly, turning back to Mizuki and forcing himself to look at those curious brown eyes, pushing down the twinge of guilt that still shot through him as he spoke. “Meet me alone after practice tomorrow. I think... there’s something important I need to tell you.”

Mizuki blinked, then he nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay.”

Kimishita took a shaky breath and exhaled. That part was done. Now he only needed to think about what exactly he wanted to say to Mizuki later, and then he’d be free. Soon. Hopefully.

He only wished he could get some sort of affirmation. Some sign from Kiichi that somehow, despite all his doubts, he was on the right path after all.

\---

Kiichi didn’t look at him once all break. No matter how many times Kimishita glanced in his direction, he never caught his eye, only ever finding his back facing his way, barely changing position at all. With each fruitless glance he sent his way Kimishita grew more frustrated. Why wouldn’t their eyes meet? Why did he never look this way, not even by accident? Even without looking for Kimishita specifically, he had to glance around sometimes, didn’t he?

Unless he was too invested in something else, of course. Or someone. Was he still talking to Satou? He was certainly still sitting with him. Jealousy shot through Kimishita’s chest, and he shut it down. Of course he wasn’t special to Kiichi. Of course he was just that, yet another friend, not even his best; that place belonged to Satou. He knew that. But he didn’t need the constant reminder, damn it!

Not that it mattered. He had seen Kiichi. He had talked to him. Briefly, but he had. Wasn’t that all he had been hoping for? There was no need to get greedy now. He should carry on and simply hope to spend more time with him tomorrow.

Except... would he be able to? Even if they had practice again, would Kiichi want to talk to him? Or would he stay like this, with his back turned, only ever talking to Satou and ignoring him completely?

_What if I messed up?_

He tried not to think about that. The truth was probably much simpler. Kiichi had just wanted to spend time with Satou instead of him, where on earth was the problem? Those two always ate together. It wasn’t like everything Kiichi did always had to be about him!

And yet, the way Kiichi had stopped replying... the way he had walked up to him only to stop in the middle of whatever he had been trying to say, run off and not look at him again for the rest of lunch break... something seemed off. Something felt wrong. Had been since the evening of their return.

No... a little earlier. Something had seemed wrong... ever since Kimishita had realized his feelings for Kiichi.

Were the two things related? Had Kimishita started acting weird? Or... had Kiichi already...?

Impossible. Impossible.

Nothing was off, he told himself. He was just overthinking, as he always was whenever he fell in love. His messed-up brain was making a huge deal out of what was almost certainly nothing.

There, he just needed to prove it. He would linger at the cafeteria door as if he had forgotten something and wait for Kiichi to pass by him, and then he would check his reaction. And his reaction would be normal. He was imagining things, that was all.

His heart pounding in his chest, he fiddled with the lid of his lunch box, pretending to have trouble getting it to close while his eyes constantly rested on Kiichi and Satou on the other side of the cafeteria. They were already getting up. Part of Kimishita hoped they would part ways here, but of course that was asking too much. They were classmates after all, and they had no reason to not walk back to their classroom together.

Satou said something to Kiichi, and Kiichi nodded, turning around to follow his friend. But somehow his movements were different from normal; the way he turned was more cautious, almost as if he was afraid of what he might encounter behind his back. Kimishita searched for his gaze. For the smallest fragment of a second their eyes met.

Kiichi visibly flinched. Something crossed his face, just quickly enough to be noticeable, then he turned back to Satou and continued talking to him as if nothing happened. Kimishita tried to focus back on his lunch box. Something was definitely off, and he didn’t understand.

Had Kiichi  _noticed_...?

_I should leave,_  a voice whispered in his head.  _If he’s already uncomfortable with me staring, what am I doing here? Am I planning to look like some fucking stalker and scare him away entirely?_

Nonsense. Nonsense. Kiichi wasn’t that perceptive, and he was just overthinking. Freaking himself out. In middle school Kiichi had never noticed Kimishita’s crush on him for over two years, so why should he be any better now? It was okay. It was  _fine_ , damn it!

And yet his heart woudn’t stop pounding as he stood there. His stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering, his eyes adamantly fixed on the lunch box in his hands, fiddling with something he didn’t pay attention to. Part of his mind was still screaming to stop standing here like an idiot and leave. He’d only embarrass himself. What was he in, sixth grade?

Kiichi and Satou came closer, and through the murmur of voices around him Kimishita caught snippets of their conversation. They were talking about their last class and the homework they’d been assigned, a conversation he could never join in. He wasn’t their classmate, after all.

Then they were in front of him, and Kimishita held his breath. Under the curtain of his hair his eyes were locked on Kiichi, searching for his gaze and unable to find it. If Kiichi had noticed him, he didn’t let it show. He adamantly continued to look at Satou, talking on and on as if nothing had happened.

_Should I say something?_

Kimishita hesitated. He wasn’t one for approaching people unless he needed something from them. Would it be too out of character for him to simply interrupt their conversation because he wanted to? Would they suspect something if he did?

Screw it. He and Kiichi were friends, and he was on decent enough terms with Satou too. Saying something was normal. Just make some sort of comment, maybe casually join them...

“You tw–”

For the fraction of a heartbeat Kiichi’s eyes flitted over to him. Quickly glancing away, he pushed forward, brushing past Kimishita’s arm and striding out through the door, pulling a confused Satou after him.

Kimishita stumbled forward, trying to follow them, but someone else passed right in front of him and cut him off. He clicked his tongue and pushed through the crowd, chasing after the two as fast as he could without running and giving himself away, but somehow Kiichi and Satou were walking just fast enough to stay out of his reach, leaving him unable to catch up until they disappeared through the door of their classroom and were gone.

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Kimishita marched back to his own classroom, sitting down and trying not to think of anything. His arm still felt warm where Kiichi had brushed against it. He wished he could touch him again. Sit down next to him maybe, or... or bring back the days when he would go to him for comfort, hugging him while imagining Mizuki doing the same...

_Enough of that, idiot! If it wasn’t pretend, he’d never have agreed to it in the first place!_

And from the way he had acted just now, it didn’t look like he would anytime soon.

What in the world had happened? One second Kiichi had approached him and talked to him like everything was normal, and the next he had stopped mid-sentence, turned on his heel and not spared him a single word or glance since. Had he done something wrong? Should he have gone after Kiichi earlier? Or was it something else that had made Kiichi suddenly turn his back on him?

Kiichi... had been avoiding him just now, hadn’t he?

It might be his imagination again, but this time Kimishita didn’t think so. He recognized all these behaviors from himself, the refusal to look at him, the way he pretended nothing was up and tried to play it down while completely and utterly failing to be subtle. And... maybe his eyes had played a trick on him. Maybe he was mistaken. But he could have sworn that when their gazes met at the door, he had seen the muscles in Kiichi’s jaw tense up as if he was in pain.

Had he made a mistake?

Had he ruined things between them somehow? Had he started acting strange since he had realized his feelings? Had he creeped Kiichi out? Scared him away? Upset him?

_Did Kiichi know he was in love with him?_

It was an absurd question, he tried to tell himself. Kiichi had no way of knowing. And yet he couldn’t shake it off his mind, couldn’t rule it out with such absolute certainty that it would give him peace. What if he did know? And what if that was the reason why he had started avoiding him?

In that case... it meant rejection. Of course it did. Kiichi had only come to Kimishita because they had been in the same boat. He had never expected Kimishita to fall in love with him instead. It would only be natural for him to start acting strange, painful as that was.

It might not be the true problem. But the more he thought about it, the less unlikely it seemed. And if that was the case... he should go back to normal. Act like he was still head over heels for Mizuki, and Kiichi was just a friend.

Could he still do that? He felt nothing for Mizuki anymore, absolutely nothing. And he had asked to talk to him already. There was no going back on that one, even if he hadn’t told him what exactly he wanted to talk about.

No, he wouldn’t go back on the breakup. He would carry it through to the end, even just out of fairness. Anything else would feel like stabbing Mizuki in the back after everything he had done for him. He could always be single and pretend to be normal and not in love. Perhaps that would even be easier.

And yet... if Kiichi kept acting like this, Kimishita didn’t know if he would truly have the courage to carry it out after all.


	41. Stupid

Somehow, after what felt like a million eternities, he had made it through the day.

Ooshiba didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform before he flopped face-first down on his bed, too worn-out and drained to do anything except lie there and try not to think. He felt like a mess. His body was heavy. But his heart was heavier. It was as if someone had filled it with all the things he wanted to say to Kimishita, all the things he wanted to do together with him, and every time he missed the chance to do a single one of them it filled up even more until it became the weight of lead in his ribcage.

Nobody had told him that avoiding the one he loved would hurt so much.

He hadn’t even seen Kimishita that much today. Just that bit at lunch, and that was pretty much it. But staying away from him hadn’t just been painful when he was nearby, easy to approach if only he wanted to; it had been a constant, endless battle against the urge to pick up his phone, against sending him a message or going and waiting for him in front of his classroom or at the school gates. Ever since turning on his heel at lunch break he had constantly had to grit his teeth and cling to the resolve to stop approaching Kimishita, no matter how much, how urgently every part of his body and heart was telling him to stop it and run after him like he always had.

Why did he miss him so much? It didn’t make sense. He was choosing not to spend time with Kimishita, so if anything Kimishita should be the one missing him, right? Except Kimishita wouldn’t miss him. He’d just go running to Mizuki again and forget about him as usual. Ooshiba was only playing himself here.

And tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow would be even worse. They would have practice again. He wouldn’t get around seeing him for a much longer time than he had today, and with every minute, every second spent together the craving would get worse. He was a hero, and heroes accomplished the impossible. But even a hero like him couldn’t be sure that he’d make it through the day without breaking resolve and falling back to normal without getting close to the reason why he had started doing this at all.

Should he leave it be? It wasn’t like Kimishita would care. And he was only hurting himself. Teaching him a lesson? Giving him a taste of his own medicine? What in the world was he thinking? Was he really expecting that to work?

But... giving up? Screw that. That wasn’t in his vocabulary.

So he’d carry on. He would persevere. Against all odds, against his own heart, like a true hero would. For as long as he needed.

He honestly didn’t like to make Kimishita suffer... but if he felt at least a hint, the tiniest fraction of the pain Ooshiba himself felt, he would call this a success.

\---

There was no morning practice today, at least. There was only a team discussion, starting a little later than morning practice would and allowing them all to get another precious few minutes of well-earned sleep.

But honestly, Kimishita would rather have practice than...  _this_.

They were all sitting together in the same room they used for strategy talk, and Kimishita had made sure to sit as close to the front as possible, in the seat where he had the worst view over the room and especially the people gathered inside it. He had hoped it would keep him focused, keep his eyes and thoughts from straying away from Nakazawa and Ubukata and everything they had to talk about. He had hoped... it would keep him from turning around to constantly glance at a certain someone who was sitting too far and too close at the same time.

No such luck, of course.

Kiichi hadn’t spared him a glance when he had walked in. He had been with Satou, enveloped in a conversation Kimishita couldn’t follow and evidently blind to all his surroundings. And yet, whether by accident or on purpose, he had sat down as far away from him as the room allowed.

Kimishita tried not to overthink things, but it was hard. This was simply too strange, too strange to ignore. He wanted to believe this was normal, no big deal, absolutely nothing to worry about. Kiichi had a right to spend time with Satou. Satou was his classmate and friend, his best friend, and it was only natural that he’d rather hang out with him than anyone else.

And yet... he hated this. He hated it so much.

The feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t and wouldn’t leave him. The feeling that Kiichi was avoiding him on purpose, that he wanted nothing more to do with him for whatever reason... that he had chosen Satou over him, and Kimishita had only deluded himself into thinking whatever had been between them was anything special. Satou was Kiichi’s best friend, not Kimishita. Kimishita had only been...  _something_. A phase perhaps, but irrelevant in the end.

Of course. Why was he even surprised? It wasn’t like he had expected Kiichi to like him right back. It wasn’t like he had expected to be Kiichi’s best friend, his most trusted and important person, his number one either.

No matter how much Kiichi had succeeded at getting his hopes up.

_Don’t think about it!_  he reminded himself. He had misread it, that was all. Crush filter. Happened all the time. If he thought about it rationally, there was absolutely nothing that could possibly get his hopes up. The only thing between them had been a strong friendship, and that was it. It was only natural that he would have ruined this by overstepping his boundaries and falling in love.

That was logical, perfectly logical. And yet...

Why was he so angry?

Maybe it was because he felt like he had lost. He had lost to Satou, been replaced by him and forgotten in his favor, and right now he would give anything to be in his place. It felt like Satou had taken Kiichi from him. And yet it wasn’t Satou he was furious at. It was Kiichi.

Kiichi, who had made him hope. Kiichi, who had made him feel safe and welcome and loved... only to turn around and do this.

What the hell was his problem? Couldn’t he at least have tried to talk to Kimishita about whatever was wrong with him? No, of course not. He just had to turn right back into a big baby and stop talking to him and sulk and somehow magically expect him to understand what the hell was the matter! What was he, psychic? How was he supposed to do anything about this if he had no idea what he had done wrong in the first place?

Had he let his feelings show too much? Was that it? But he hadn’t been so obvious that Kiichi would have stopped talking to him just for that, right? He could at least have asked! It wasn’t like Kimishita had been acting on his feelings in any way! So what was it? Was he so uncomfortable with even the slightest hint, the mere thought that Kimishita might like him that he started acting like this?

_Pay attention to me, idiot! What is wrong with you, huh?_

Oh, screw it. If Kiichi wanted to ignore him that badly, he could always do the same. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. Let the idiot cling to Satou all he wanted, that was none of his business.

Yeah, right.

Getting angry couldn’t hide his true feelings after all. He was unsure. He was confused. He was frustrated. And... it hurt him, damn it.

_Should I really break up with Captain for this?_

_What if I do, and then I’ll make things even worse?_

No good. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He shouldn’t be looking at Kiichi. He shouldn’t be wondering about Mizuki or any stupid relationship drama. This discussion was important. He should be paying attention before anyone else caught wind of his worries.

He tried to focus. He listened to Nakazawa and Ubukata and Mizuki and Usui as they all discussed the tournament behind them and the future of the team. It was an important topic, but somehow nothing important was being said. It wasn’t time to nominate the next captain yet. It should be soon, Kimishita knew. The third-years would only come to practice a few more times to smooth out the transition for their underclassmen, and then they’d be gone. Only coming to class, and in less than two months that would be over too. The current second-years would have to take over the team.

He should really, really pay attention. This was about his future too, his responsibility. And yet, when there was so much useless chatter and so little else, how was he supposed to keep listening when there was so much else on his mind?

If Mizuki was leaving anyway, what was the point in continuing the relationship?

Then again, if they continued dating but rarely saw each other anymore... wouldn’t that be good? Officially he wouldn’t be single, but he wouldn’t have as much pressure to spend time with the captain anymore. And in case he needed someone...

But the one he would need wouldn’t be Mizuki. He wouldn’t go to him anymore, Kimishita could sense it. The relationship would exist on paper alone, and it wouldn’t help anyone because the only ones who knew about it were the two of them and Kiichi.

So, one more reason to break up. Unless...

_Yes, unless Kiichi finds out and somehow realizes I ended things because of him. I get it, brain. This is bullshit and you know it._

And yet he still couldn’t shake this fear. This irrational feeling. He knew it wasn’t likely to happen, but what if? What would he do if that happened? He needed a backup plan. Just in case something went wrong, he needed to know what to do. Or maybe those were just excuses, and what he really needed was some affirmation, because his own thoughts weren’t enough.

If only he could talk about this to someone. Ask someone for advice, vent to them. Someone who was in on the whole story, in on the secret...

But the only ones who knew were Mizuki and Kiichi. Venting to Mizuki was out of the question. And Kiichi... Kiichi was the problem here. Kiichi had been the only one he had trusted with this, and now he couldn’t ask him.

Then again... hadn’t Kiichi hated him dating Mizuki in the first place? So he’d tell him to break up, wouldn’t he?

Well, the old Kiichi would. The current Kiichi... he had no idea.

If only he could at least tell him part of the truth. Just that he had moved on from Mizuki, and he liked someone else now. See how he’d respond. That would be fine, right? Or would it be too obvious?

Would Kiichi even listen to him if he tried to approach him now?

Oh, if only he didn’t have to sit here. If only he could at least distract himself with soccer instead of being stuck in this place, unable to focus on anything but the stupid idiot on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want to look at him. He couldn’t afford to sit there thinking of nothing but messy feelings like some middle school girl, damn it!

Maybe if this kept up, he should just confront Kiichi. Ask him what the hell was wrong all of a sudden. That would be normal, right? Not too obvious? Not looking like he was paying too much attention to him?

_For crying out loud...!_

Screw this worrying. He’d do it. And if it was the last thing he did.

He just hoped it wouldn’t turn out that Kiichi hadn’t been ignoring him at all, and he had simply been overthinking everything.

\---

Kiichi didn’t spare him a single glance for the entirety of the discussion. As soon as it ended he was up on his feet and disappeared through the door, almost forcefully talking to no one but Satou until they were both out of sight, and Kimishita could do nothing except ball up his fists and push down the furious twang of jealousy shooting through his ribcage. This was okay, he told himself. He’d just have to try and confront him later.

He only hoped that talking to him would help, and he wouldn’t make things any worse. He had screwed up before. Like that time after the kiss...

But they had made up after that, he told himself. He’d manage. One way or another, he’d manage.

_It’s not like I can make things any worse than they already are, right?_

He shut down that thought. It would be okay. Worst case, Kiichi would reject him, and then he’d simply try to fall for Mizuki again until he found some other way to be happy. It wouldn’t be that bad. He was used to being heartbroken. He’d manage.

And yet, when lunch break arrived, he was so full of doubts he barely knew what he was doing anymore.

It was fine, Kimishita told himself for what felt like the millionth time today. He and Kiichi were friends. He had a right to know why his friend was being weird. It wasn’t like he would actually get rejected here and now. So there was no need to feel the way he was feeling... like he had already lost, and like he was walking to his own execution.

The way to the cafeteria felt too slow and too fast at once. Suddenly Kimishita found himself in front of its doors and didn’t know how or when he had managed to get there, but in all honesty it didn’t matter. His eyes darted about, caring about nothing and no one except for that one stupid, unmistakable, dearly familiar spiky mop of red hair.

He found him in the crowd, but he wasn’t alone. Of course he wasn’t. Satou was with him, and they were talking again, about what, Kimishita both craved to know and didn’t care. But they seemed so relaxed. Happy. Satou said something and rolled his eyes, and Kiichi cracked a grin and started laughing, laughing and smiling as if nothing was wrong.

_He doesn’t miss me at all, huh._

A stab of pain shot through Kimishita’s chest, anger warring with resignation inside his mind, tearing him back and forth between the furious urge to march over and confront Kiichi right then and there and turning back and giving up on him. What was he doing here? Why did he have to feel this way? What was he doing, always falling for people who were much happier with someone else? No... what was Kiichi doing, making him fall for him when he was obviously so much happier with someone else?

He did neither. He just stood and waited. No use marching in there as long as Satou was with Kiichi, anyway.

Then maybe it should be better to drop it, the bitter part of him thought. It didn’t look like Satou was leaving his side anytime soon. No point in standing here waiting for something that wouldn’t happen anyway.

But just as he was about to give in and turn back, Satou walked away to stand in the cafeteria line, and Kiichi was left alone.

_Now’s the chance._

Waiting just a little longer to make sure he wouldn’t look like he had been waiting, Kimishita walked in through the door and made a beeline straight for Kiichi.

Their eyes met. Kiichi flinched, the shadow of something dark and painful shooting across his face, then he turned away and started hurrying away through the crowd. Kimishita sped after him. Kiichi moved faster, but Kimishita kept up with his speed. Anger boiled up inside him. So he really had been avoiding him, huh? Fine. All the more reason to give him a piece of his mind.

Kiichi was tall and strong enough to shove his way through the crowd, but Kimishita was slim and agile. Pacing through the tables and people with a murderous glare on his face, he barely registered the frightened looks thrown his way as more and more people hurriedly jostled to the side to avoid being run over or murdered. He didn’t care about them all. His eyes were only on Kiichi, refusing to let him out of sight until he caught him and cut him off.

The back door opened, and Kiichi slipped out right in front of him. Kimishita bit back a smirk. Bad idea. Outside they’d be alone, and he’d have no crowd to shield him. He could always run, but Kimishita was one of the fastest runners on the team. This race was decided.

“Kiichi!” he shouted, storming out through the door after him. “Will you stop running away or do I have to tie you to the fucking wall, huh?”

Kiichi stumbled and faltered in his steps. For a second he looked like he was about to run. Then he balled up his fists and stopped without turning around.

“So you do listen sometimes.” Kimishita scoffed and clicked his tongue, marching around him to try and look at his face, but Kiichi turned away once more. “Care to explain why you’re turning your back on someone who’s talking to you? Remember your manners, idiot!”

Kiichi didn’t move. He simply stood there with his back to Kimishita, his body tense, crossing his arms in front of his chest in defense.

“What do you want?”

Fury shot through Kimishita. Was this idiot serious? After all his nonsense, all his capricious drama, he had the nerve to stand there and ask him  _this_?

“I don’t know either!” he snapped, not even caring how furious and sarcastic he sounded. “Maybe I’d like to know why the fuck you tried to run away from me in the first place!”

Kiichi didn’t answer for a moment. The muscles in his shoulders and back tightened a little more.

“I didn’t,” he said at last.

_Lies,_  Kimishita wanted to shout.  _You’re lying and you know it! At least fucking try to be convincing, idiot!_

“Oh yeah?” he said out loud, straining himself not to sound too furious, painfully keeping himself in check. “Then what were you doing, huh?”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He didn’t move either, but Kimishita thought he saw his shoulders trembling a little.

“Let me guess.” Oh, he sounded passive-aggressive, but Kimishita didn’t have enough self-restraint left to care. “You just  _happened_  to start walking away the second I tried to approach you?”

Kiichi gave a spiteful little shrug. “So what if I did?”

“And that’s why you just  _happen_  to refuse to look at me now?”

No answer. The muscles in Kiichi’s back tightened a little more.

“Answer me, idiot! If there’s a problem then just fucking tell me!” He sounded desperate now, Kimishita knew. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. “You’re good at complaining, aren’t you?”

“...there’s no problem.”

Kimishita stopped short. Something about Kiichi’s voice sounded strange. Wrong. Not like the Kiichi he knew... but he couldn’t pinpoint what was off to save his life.

“No problem, my ass!” Once more he tried to step around him and see his face, and once more Kiichi turned his back to him. “If there’s no problem then why are you acting like everything’s wrong?”

“ _Nothing’s wrong!_ ”

Kiichi spun around, glaring down at him with burning, bitter fury. Kimishita returned the glare. This face... this expression... it hurt in his chest. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want Kiichi to look at him like that. He wanted to look away and hide, and yet he stood firm, holding the gaze that was threatening to tear him up from the inside.

“Why do you even care?” Kiichi asked, and there was pain in his voice, so much pain Kimishita didn’t understand. “Everything’s fine. I just wanna hang out with Hideki right now.”

_So it’s true. He prefers Satou over me._

Why was he so surprised? He had seen this coming from a mile away. And yet, after seeing the truth for so long, it still hurt him. Hearing it directly from Kiichi’s mouth hurt more than he had ever imagined anything could hurt.

And yet some part of him didn’t want to believe it. Some part of him didn’t want to go down without a fight. He wanted to keep standing until Kiichi went and shattered every last one of his hopes and doubts.

“Oh yeah? Then say so from the beginning, idiot!” the reckless part of him shouted, even as the rest of him desperately screamed at it to stop. “Do you think wanting to hang out with Satou is a reason to cut me off completely or what?”

Kiichi closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were clouded, glaring stubbornly at something Kimishita couldn’t identify.

“Why do I gotta tell you?” he asked, his voice cold and bitter and trembling, full of grim resentment and a deep, furious, unfathomable sadness. “I got a life outside of you. Stop being so clingy.” He clenched his fists. “You don’t own me, Kimishita!”

Kimishita flinched. Something stabbed through his chest, sharp and raw and painful, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound behind.

“So this is how it is, huh.” He lowered his head, letting his bangs fall into his face, hoping they would obscure the look of pain, the gritted teeth, the tears prickling and burning at the corners of his eyes. “Good to know that’s where we stand. It’s not like I wanted to spend time with you that badly anyway!” His throat knotted together, making it hard to breathe. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want! Enjoy yourself!”

He didn’t look at Kiichi. He didn’t want to see his face. He simply spun around and ran off, not stopping, not looking behind. Kiichi didn’t call after him. He didn’t try to stop him either. Of course not. Why should he?

Deep down he just hoped the look on Kiichi’s face was a hurt one. At least as hurt as he himself was feeling.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

What had he done? What had he done? What in the world had he done? How had it all gone so wrong? They had been so close! They had shared secrets! They had hugged! They had kissed! So why? Why did it end like that? How had he managed to mess up that badly?

Not that it mattered. It was over now.

Kimishita didn’t stop running until he reached the classroom. It was empty, but even if it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have cared. After what had happened, what did it matter? What did anything matter?

Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fist into the wall, the acute pain shooting through his hand the only thing to keep him from crying.

\---

Ooshiba collapsed against the wall, his entire body shaking with too many emotions for him to contain.

He had done it. He had ruined everything. He hadn’t meant to, but he had messed up. He had only meant to teach Kimishita a lesson, and now... now he hated him. He had to hate him for sure.

Where had he gone wrong? What had he done? Why did he always keep messing up these things? He should have been happy Kimishita was seeking him out, trying to connect with him after the sudden silence? Why had he lashed out? Why had he said all that? How could he have forgotten everything, everything Usui had taught him and ruined things so much?

He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up right where he stood and burst into tears, not caring who passed by and saw him. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. His chest only hurt, it hurt too much for words.

“So that’s where you are.”

Someone leaned next to him against the wall, a familiar voice rousing him from his thoughts. Hideki. Ooshiba had completely forgotten about him.

“You were gone all of a sudden,” his friend said, sounding more confused than annoyed with his disappearance. Then he stopped short, staring at him with wide, concerned eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Ooshiba tried to say something, but no words came out. His throat was so tight he didn’t trust himself to say a single word without bursting in tears.

“Did something happen?” Hideki asked, placing a hand on his shoulder and holding out the sandwich he had bought from the cafeteria. Ooshiba gently declined it. “Don’t tell me... It’s Kimishita, isn’t it?”

Ooshiba turned around, trying to look at him, trying to tell him, but his vision blurred, his eyes watering. “Hideki...”

“There, there. Calm down first.” Hideki hesitated, then he stepped forward to pull him into an awkward one-armed hug. “Did you two have a fight or what?”

That seemed too small to describe it, but Ooshiba nodded.

Hideki sighed. “You two really are something else. Don’t worry. You’ve always made up before, haven’t you?” Ooshiba pressed his lips together and sniffled, and Hideki frowned. “That serious?”

Ooshiba nodded again and buried his face in his shoulder. “He hates me,” he rasped out. “I fucked up...”

“Yeah, sounds like you’re not alone there.” Ooshiba blinked in surprise, and Hideki sighed again. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, you guys just need an adult to talk sense into you.” He shook his head. Through the curtain of tears Ooshiba caught something in his expression, a certain annoyed determination that hadn’t been there before.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. You two so deserve each other.”


	42. Mediator

Should he really go to practice today?

Kimishita had never considered skipping anything before. No practice, no classes, nothing. Never once in his life had the thought even crossed his mind, that he could have something to attend and simply not go, just like that or because he had something better to do. It had always seemed pointless to him, irresponsible. There were people counting on him showing up. If he didn’t, he’d disappoint them and make himself look bad. For his entire life that had always been his attitude.

But now, as he sat there after the end of class, he wasn’t sure if he could really make the way to the club room.

Nonsense, he tried to tell himself. Right now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Right now the team was changing, and he of all people needed to be there, carrying it in this crucial time and smoothing out the transformation from this year’s team to the next generation. He didn’t have time to waste on such foolish, self-indulgent, overemotional thoughts.

And yet his body wouldn’t move. Every part of him felt heavy, too heavy, refusing to budge a single inch under the weight of barely-contained sadness and dread.

He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to have to face Kiichi again, look him in the eye or play together with him. He didn’t want to see him at all. He couldn’t see him right now. The mere thought of his face brought up thoughts, memories, feelings he couldn’t restrain, tearing up wounds he had barely managed to keep together over the course of the school day. It wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting. If he saw Kiichi right now, he would simply break and shatter to pieces.

But his responsibility...

Could he do it? Even if he went, would he be capable of doing anything for the team in this state? Or should he call off after all? They’d let him go home, he knew. He was never absent otherwise, they’d know something was serious. It would be cowardly, but wouldn’t it be better for his well-being?

Wait a second. He couldn’t go home. He was still supposed to talk to Mizuki after practice, wasn’t he?

_About what?_  he thought bitterly. He wouldn’t break up right now. He couldn’t. After a discouragement, a rejection like this, what on earth was the point? Why should he leave Mizuki for someone who loved him even less than the captain did?

He could send Mizuki a message, he thought, saying he had changed his mind. And then he could leave. Skip practice. For the first time in his life.

“Kimishita? What are you doing?”

Kimishita gave a start, jolting out of his thoughts. Standing in front of him was Suzuki, his expression as blank as usual, his dark eyes intense and curious as they watched him closely. “Practice is starting soon,” he said. “Aren’t you coming?”

His voice was innocent, casual, but something felt odd. For some reason or another Kimishita couldn’t help feeling like Suzuki knew exactly what had been going on through his head.

Kimishita dismissed the thought. He was probably going paranoid. Suzuki wasn’t psychic, and he had no way of knowing what had happened otherwise. This was simply an innocent question directed at his uncharacteristic behavior.

“I...”

For a second an excuse hovered on his tongue. He could talk himself out right now, he thought. Tell Suzuki he wasn’t feeling well and go home, hoping his behavior wouldn’t raise too many questions.

“I’m... coming.”

Kimishita would probably hate himself for this decision later. But he couldn’t do it after all. The team was relying on him. Any and all personal emotions would have to take the backseat.

He’d just have to try not to look at Kiichi too much.

\---

Kiichi wasn’t in the club room when Kimishita and Suzuki entered. Whether or not he had already left or if he had yet to arrive was a question Kimishita tried not to ask himself as he hurried and got changed, torn between relief that he wasn’t there and frustration that he couldn’t see him. He couldn’t believe it. This was ridiculous. After everything that had happened looking at Kiichi would only cause him pain, and yet... and yet he wanted him nearby. Why, he didn’t understand either. All he knew was that he missed him no matter what.

Kimishita didn’t look around when he left the club room, and when he walked onto the pitch he forced his eyes not to stray around in search of messy red hair, a broad back and the jersey number 11. Maybe Kiichi was here, maybe he wasn’t. Didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he would acknowledge his presence anyway.

So he ignored him by sheer force of will, keeping to Suzuki for as long as he could, then yelling at the first-years for something not worth yelling for. After what felt like an eternity Nakazawa finally spoke up and made them run warmup laps, and Kimishita darted off like there was something to win, running ahead of all his teammates except Tsukamoto. For just a few moments he could let his guard down. He was faster than Kiichi. And today the idiot wouldn’t try to come after him again. He was safe.

But those precious few moments didn’t last. Maybe it was because Kimishita turned his frustration into speed and ran even faster than usual, or maybe time just went faster the more he wanted it to slow, but either way he found himself back on the pitch before he knew it, slowing to a walk and then stopping with nothing to do until the rest of the team was back too.

Tsukamoto watched him from the side as if he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t ask. Then Kazama joined him, and the kid quickly forgot about everything that seemed to have worried him a moment ago. Kimishita resisted the urge to snap at them. They sure had it easy, he thought bitterly. Must be nice, loving someone and knowing without doubt that they loved you back.

One after another their teammates came back onto the pitch, fewer than before, most of the third-years watching from the sidelines instead of taking part in practice like they used to. Some of them weren’t even there. The regulars and a handful of others were the only ones still participating, and even they wouldn’t be there much longer. Kimishita tried to keep his eyes focused on Mizuki while he still could. Soon he’d be gone, he thought. And then he would need to come up with a new strategy for dealing with all this.

After another eternity everyone was assembled again, and Kimishita made a mental note to make the first-years run extra laps in the future. Some of them were much too slow. He had no idea when the other second-years had arrived; Suzuki was usually with Satou, and Satou with Kiichi, and where Kiichi was he didn’t want to know, no matter how much his heart told him otherwise.

“Pair up!” Nakazawa shouted at last, the same thing he’d been saying every day for as long as Kimishita had played here. “Make sure to do your stretches properly! Don’t slack off just because we’re the champions!”

Suzuki found Kimishita before he had a chance to look around. Thank goodness. If he’d had to go looking for him and spotted  _him_ –

“Hold up.”

Kimishita gave a jolt. They weren’t alone. Standing next to Suzuki, with a hand on his friend’s shoulder, was Satou, speaking to him like Kimishita wasn’t even there.

“Switch places with me,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Suzuki nodded and disappeared into a direction Kimishita’s gaze didn’t dare follow him in.

Kimishita was left with Satou. He had no idea how or why he had ended up paired with him, and he had even less of an idea what in the world he was supposed to do now. Some part of him was annoyed. Annoyed that, through some bizarre, tragicomical twist of fate, he had somehow been paired up with the very person he envied the most.

There was an awkward silence. Kimishita looked anywhere but at Satou. He had no idea what to do or say in this situation.

At long last he sighed, deciding to screw it and simply go for the obvious. “What do you want?”

He half expected Satou to ask something in return, distract from the question somehow, but he didn’t. Instead he came straight to the point. “I want to talk to you.”

Kimishita gave him a wary frown. “Why?”

Satou gave a heavy sigh, and suddenly Kimishita could guess his answer before he ever opened his mouth.

“Ooshiba,” he said, and Kimishita forced himself not to flinch. “You two had a fight, didn’t you?”

_Oh, sure. Stick your nose into our personal business. Because this is apparently such an important problem that we need to get the entire fucking team involved._

Kimishita bit down on that passive-aggressive remark. If he said all that, Satou would have even more reason to believe it was something serious, and he needed more people involved in this mess like he needed a hole in the head. “Maybe we did,” he said instead. “Does it matter? We fight all the time.”

Satou’s eyes rested on him, serious and grave. “I’m not talking about one of your normal fights, and you know it.”

Kimishita gritted his teeth.  _Keep doing your exercises,_  he reminded himself.  _Don’t show any emotion. If you do, you’ll betray yourself._

“Even if it was bigger than normal,” he said out loud, “big fucking deal! We’ll make up sooner or later.”  _Hopefully_ , he added in his mind. “No need to step in and make us shake hands and apologize, we’re not in grade school anymore!”

Satou simply pointed over his shoulder into the direction Kimishita didn’t dare look in. “You do realize that guy almost broke down crying on me earlier?”

Kimishita did flinch this time. Kiichi had been close to tears? That was unexpected... and rare. Emotional as he was, Kiichi almost never cried, not unless... unless something hurt him very, very, very badly.

Kimishita had hurt him like that. Kimishita’s actions, his words had brought him on the verge of tears, leaving him in a mess for Satou to find. And he honestly didn’t know how to feel about that.

Part of him, the furious, resentful part, was grimly satisfied. Satisfied that he had managed to make an impact on Kiichi, that he had hurt him just like how the idiot had hurt him. The rest of him felt terrible. What was he doing, lashing out at Kiichi like that? What had he been thinking? How could he have brought the boy he loved, his most important friend to the verge of tears like that? Kiichi, who he wanted to see happy, who he wanted to make happy more than anyone else in the world... what on earth had he done?

But a tiny part of him, a small, weak, insignificant part, couldn’t help feeling a spark of hope. Hope that maybe Kiichi hadn’t meant what he said, hope that he had only said all these things out of anger or spite and not because he felt them. Hope... that Kiichi did care.

Maybe there was still hope for their friendship, he thought. As for everything else... he wouldn’t think about that. It seemed too far-fetched to consider at all.

“So what?” he asked, averting his gaze and hoping his expression didn’t give away how much it hurt to say this. “Why should I care about that idiot’s drama queen bullshit?”

_Liar,_  his heart whispered.  _He isn’t being a drama queen, and it isn’t bullshit. And you know that._

“Just thought you’d like to know,” Satou replied in mild frustration. “Since you two have been close lately.”

A stab shot through Kimishita’s chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was shame, guilt, or something else entirely. Satou was hitting close to the mark, too close, much too close. It was almost like he understood what was going on... like he  _knew_...

_Had Kiichi told him?_

Kimishita dismissed that thought with a click of his tongue. “We were close! Now we aren’t!” he snapped irritably. “It happens! Are you trying to guilt me into apologizing or what?”

He sounded stupid, so stupid. Even he could see that. If Satou had had any doubts that something had happened between and Kiichi before, he was doing everything humanly possible to confirm that right now. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted to end this conversation. He wanted to end it right here, right now, as soon as possible. Before Satou could say any more. Before he could ask any more questions that hit too close to home. Before he could tell him any more that twisted and cut into the depths of his insides, tearing him apart with fury and guilt and frustration and that tiny, undying spark of hope that would only turn into a disappointment in the end.

Satou gave him a long look, then he sighed, returning back to his stretches. “I’m not trying to guilt you into anything,” he said. “I’d just like to know what happened, for starters.”

“Nothing!”

“If nothing happened,” Satou replied, straightening up and staring Kimishita firmly in the eyes, refusing to let his gaze avoid him and escape, “then why does Ooshiba suddenly think you hate him?”

Kimishita froze mid-motion. The world around him slowed down and stopped.

_He’s bluffing,_  he tried to tell himself. There was no way Kiichi would have said that, let alone thought that. This was Kiichi. He always told himself everyone loved him. And he knew Kimishita. He knew that no matter how many times they fought, how many times they yelled at each other and punched each other in the face and ignored each other, he would never... never...

But then why would Satou say something like this? Why would he come to him in the first place? If he thought it was just a normal fight, if he didn’t believe something was seriously wrong between the two of them... why would he go this far?

And Kiichi... Kiichi didn’t think everyone loved him. Kimishita of all people knew that. He knew better than anyone how desperate he was to love, to be loved, how much rejection hurt him, how insecure he could become underneath all his bragging and big ego. Kiichi was much more vulnerable than he let on, and Kimishita should know that better than anyone else in the world.

He should know all that. And yet he felt betrayed. Hadn’t he always been by Kiichi’s side? Hadn’t he always supported him no matter what? Hadn’t he stuck to him for all these years, standing by his side, caring about him and appreciating him no matter how many times they yelled at each other and vowed to stop talking? Why didn’t Kiichi know better? Did he really trust him so little that he thought Kimishita would stop liking him over something like this?

This was stupid. This was so stupid. Unnecessary. Childish.

“This idiot,” he whispered, clenching his fists and glaring in Kiichi’s direction, ignoring the stab of pain at the sight of his face. “Like I’d ever...”

“I know that,” Satou said with an oddly gentle look. “But I think he could use a reminder.”

Kimishita jolted out of his thoughts.  _Get a grip,_  he told himself. Satou was right. But that was the problem. And the worst part was that there was no way he could explain all that without revealing everything he was trying so hard to keep hidden.

A reminder. When Satou said it it sounded so simple, so easy. But what should he do? Tell Kiichi he still cared? And then what? Apologize? What in the world should he apologize for when he had no idea why on earth Kiichi had been ignoring him in the first place?

Oh, right. He did have an idea. A very good idea.

_Stop being so clingy. You don’t own me, Kimishita!_

Kimishita gave a bitter laugh. A reminder, all right. Kiichi had pushed him away enough, and he was supposed to come after him? And then what? Tell him he hadn’t meant what he said? Tell him he still liked him? Ridiculous. No use coming after that idiot when he was already being  _clingy_  just confronting him about his avoidant behavior.

“A reminder, my ass,” he spat before his sanity could tell him otherwise. “To me it looked like he knew just fine earlier!”

Satou stopped his exercises and crossed his arms. “To me it looked like he didn’t, but carry on, I guess.”

“Well, what the fuck would  _you_  do if someone avoided you for no reason and then called you clingy when you confront them, huh?”

Satou blinked in surprise. Kimishita froze solid. His brain caught up with his mouth, cold panic spreading throughout his body.

This was bad. This was really bad. What had he said? What had he done? How had he become so caught up in this conversation that he had revealed all  _this_? Was he a complete idiot? He had messed up, he had messed up, he had messed up...

“Wait a sec.” Frowning, Satou stepped closer, eyeing him with a gaze that saw everything, everything he didn’t want people to see. “Is  _this_  what it’s all about?”

Kimishita resisted the urge to back away. “Forget it,” he muttered. “It’s not important. We should focus back on the–”

“No, wait.” Satou lifted a hand, peering over his shoulder at Kiichi, then back at Kimishita. Understanding was written all across his face, understanding and dawning realization.

“This doesn’t even make sense.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, furious and caught. “No shit–”

“No, I mean... how can you be clingy when  _he’s_  always been the one reaching out to  _you_?”

Kimishita stopped in his tracks.

For a second he didn’t believe Satou’s words at all. This was nonsense. He had reached out to Kiichi before. He had obviously–

...Huh?

He had... hadn’t he?

But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t remember the last time he had. Had there ever been a time at all? Kimishita didn’t know. All he could say was that recently, the one to approach the other and reach out and initiate everything had always been Kiichi.

But that... wait a minute...

But if he had never reached out to Kiichi before, if the only one doing that had been Kiichi... then he couldn’t have been clingy, could he? That went against the very definition of the word.

Had he misheard Kiichi? No, he had heard him loud and clear. Besides, any other word wouldn’t have made sense in the context of everything else he said.

But if he hadn’t been clingy, if he couldn’t have been clingy... why had Kiichi said that? What had he been talking about? Had he not meant what he said? Had it been sarcasm? Spite? Or–

_Clingy sap._

_It was disgusting! So don’t even think of trying to do this with me again, got it? Ever!_

_Not again. We got carried away once already, so forget it._

_Clingy._  His own words. And then...

_You don’t own me!_

Little by little everything pieced itself together in his mind, all the scattered puzzle pieces fitting into each other to form the one image he had never expected to see. Kiichi hadn’t seen through his feelings, he realized. Kiichi didn’t actually find him clingy. On the contrary. Kiichi was tired of reaching out to him and only ever being met with reluctance and rejection. When he had avoided him, called him clingy... that had been payback. Payback for all the times he had tried to get close to him, and Kimishita had chickened out and become snippy instead.

And the time he had been about to ask him something and cut himself off yesterday... it made sense now. Kiichi hadn’t found him clingy back then. He had been insecure because Kimishita had called him clingy. And so he had rejected himself before Kimishita could reject him.

_You idiot._

Kimishita didn’t know if that thought was directed at Kiichi or himself. Maybe both. They had both been stupid, so stupid. But the biggest idiot in all this had still been himself. How had he been so dense? How had he been so clueless? How had he followed the wrong trail so far down the line that he had completely missed all the obvious signs how mistaken he was?

But that meant... that meant something simple. Terrifying yet simple and encouraging all the same. He could fix this. He could solve this problem with his own hands.

And he’d be damned if he wouldn’t.

Satou’s eyes still rested on his face, much less confused than before, much less concerned as his worry had faded into understanding and relief. “You understood something, didn’t you?” he said with a slight smile. “Took you long enough.”

“Guess you could say that.” Kimishita didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help cracking a grin himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this. And Satou...”

He hesitated for a moment, staring away as a slight flush of embarrassment heated up his cheeks. “Thank you.”

\---

Kimishita didn’t have to wait long for a chance to approach Mizuki. They were gathered together on the pitch, ready to start yet another practice match, and the captain was only a few footsteps away from where Kimishita stood. Kimishita didn’t hesitate to cross the distance until he was close enough to whisper. This wouldn’t take long, he thought. And unlike before, this time he didn’t need to muster the courage to talk to him. This time he knew for sure that what he was doing was the right thing.

“Captain,” he whispered, “about the talk we were supposed to have after practice...”

Mizuki tilted his head to show he was listening. “Do you want to talk now?”

“No.” Kimishita couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at the question. “On the contrary.”

Mizuki simply continued to gaze at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Let’s reschedule it,” Kimishita said. “Right now... first of all, I need to deal with something more important.”

His face warmed up.  _Or someone._

He just hoped that Kiichi would at least try to hear him out this time.


	43. Running

He shouldn’t look at Kimishita. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.

Ooshiba tried to keep to that resolve, but it was getting harder. Practice wasn’t class or the hallway or the cafeteria. They had to play soccer together. And even if they weren’t on the same team, they had to at least pay attention to each other to stop the other’s team from scoring too many goals or avoid getting marked or even just to keep from colliding. He couldn’t ignore Kimishita anymore. He needed to at least know where he was and what he was doing, and that couldn’t be done without looking at him.

He should focus on that alone, he knew. Keep his gaze on Kimishita’s feet to know where he was moving, what he was doing, and ignore the rest. He didn’t need to see his face. He didn’t need to know his expression. That would only make him feel worse. And yet...

He couldn’t do it. Over and over again his eyes strayed up from Kimishita’s feet to his face, and over and over again he regretted it bitterly. He missed him. He missed him so much. And no matter what Hideki had said when he had come back to him earlier, things were ruined between them. Finished. Over.

Ooshiba had hoped that their fight would at least affect him. That Kimishita would look at least a little upset, a little hurt, a little more like their friendship had mattered to him. Maybe it had been a selfish wish, hoping that he was unhappy. He didn’t want to see Kimishita unhappy. But... he just wanted him to care.

And yet Kimishita didn’t care. At all. No matter how many times Ooshiba secretly glanced his way, he seemed unaffected– no, that would be a lie. He didn’t just look normal. He looked  _fine_. Dynamic, motivated, full of energy and determination as if he had made an important decision he was ready to carry through. He had only just fought with Ooshiba a few hours ago, and now he was already like this, looking perfectly normal and like... like a huge burden had fallen off his shoulders.

So Ooshiba’s friendship... had been a burden to him.

Ooshiba clenched his fists, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. It hurt. It hurt him. But he couldn’t show those feelings now. Not in front of the team. Not when he was about to become the next captain, the next role model and ace. Heroes didn’t cry. Not in front of the people they were tasked with protecting.

So for now he should try to act normal.  _Conceal, don’t feel._  What did it matter what Kimishita thought of their fight? Things were  _over_. Done. Finished. Kimishita wanted nothing more to do with him, and he should feel the same. Hideki was wrong. He didn’t know the full story. He couldn’t know all of it. If he knew what had truly happened, he would understand.

There was nothing left to hope. Kimishita was gone. He had chased him away. And he couldn’t cry about it until he was alone.

So, until then, he would hold out and hope his heart wouldn’t shatter to pieces in his chest.

\---

Kiichi would probably try to escape as soon as he could, Kimishita knew that.

Practice was over, and that meant there wasn’t a single second to lose. Not unless he let the idiot flee in front of his nose and had to seek him out at his house, at the risk of being denied entry, or needed to wait until tomorrow. His chest constricted at the thought. There was no way he was waiting that long, he thought. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. He needed to fix things right here, right now, or he would simply lose his mind.

Striding into the club room, he slipped out of his jersey and threw on his school uniform faster than he ever had before. If Kiichi left before him, it was all over. He had to be done first, or else–

The door opened, and Kiichi stepped into the doorframe, somehow already fully dressed while Kimishita was still busy buttoning up his shirt.

His breath hitched. No way. How had this guy managed to be this fast? No human being should... but... damn it. He couldn’t follow him like this. He had to finish getting dressed... but then he would escape... he should... no... he could... what in the world should he do?

“Wait up.”

The voice sounded from a few feet away, stopping Kiichi in his tracks. Kimishita caught his breath. The one calling after him was Satou, striding from his locker towards the door to go after Kiichi.

_Don’t worry,_  he mouthed as he passed by Kimishita.  _I’ll keep him._

Kimishita gave a sigh of relief and nodded.  _Thank you._

Satou hurried after Ooshiba, talking about something Kimishita didn’t catch, and miraculously Kiichi listened. He looked strained, but he listened, waiting for his friend to catch up and lingering at the door while Kimishita hurried up to finish getting dressed. He wondered why he had ever felt jealous of Satou in the first place. That guy was a true ally, a friend among friends, and right now he couldn’t help feeling like he owed him his life. When all this was over, when he had made up with Kiichi again, he would definitely do everything in his power to make it up to him.

Kimishita finished as fast as he could, not bothering with his tie as he threw on his coat, slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door. Outside his eyes darted back and forth, searching for Satou and Kiichi. At first he couldn’t spot them anywhere. Had they left after all? Had not even Satou managed to hold Kiichi back long enough?

No– there they were. Not far from here. Only a little way off, heading towards the school gate at a suspiciously slow pace.

Kimishita lost no time in walking after them as fast as he could.

Satou peered over his shoulder as his footsteps approached, stopping in his tracks and tugging at Kiichi’s sleeve. “Wait,” he said. “I think I forgot something.”

Slowing to a halt, Kiichi blinked at him, evidently not yet noticing Kimishita only a few steps behind him. He looked surprised, a little confused, maybe even disappointed, Kimishita couldn’t quite make out his expression. “You gonna go back?” he asked, in a tone that made it all too clear he really didn’t want to be left alone right now. “I’m gonna wait here.”

“Nah, leave it,” Satou said with a dismissive gesture. “I’m not sure I left it in the club room, I’m not making you wait out here in the cold for who knows how long.” He gave him a pat on the back. “You go on ahead, ‘kay?”

Kiichi really, really looked like he wasn’t okay with it, but he nodded. “Sure,” he said mechanically. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See you!” Satou turned to leave, casually pointing over his shoulder. “And by the way, I think there’s someone here to see you.”

Kiichi turned around.

The world stood still. Every image, every sound around them faded. Their eyes met, and suddenly there was nothing except the two of them, frozen in place, staring at each other without a single word.

Kimishita didn’t know what to say. There was so much, so many emotions swirling in his mind that his words failed him, tumbling and falling from his grasp as he tried to catch them, piece them together, use them to explain everything he needed to explain so badly. He knew exactly what he was feeling. He knew he needed to convey all that. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put it into words.

“Kiichi,” he began at last, “listen–“

But Kiichi didn’t listen. His eyes went wide with horror, and he spun around, not saying a single word as he started sprinting through the school gate and out into the street.

Kimishita bit back a curse, pushing down his disappointment and darting after him. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, he told himself. Of course Kiichi would try to escape this confrontation. He had the completely wrong idea. That was exactly why, right now, he needed to be faster than he had ever been.

Skidding around the corner, cutting it so closely he almost slipped, Kimishita sped onto the sidewalk and down the street, not caring about his surroundings, not caring about anything. Kiichi wasn’t out of reach. He was right in front of him. Just a little more, a little faster. He could still catch him.

“Don’t run, idiot!” he shouted after him. “At least listen!”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He only ran even faster, faster than Kimishita had ever seen him run before. Kimishita picked up his speed. Damn it. This guy was too fast. When had he improved so much? Catching up to him had never been a problem before, but now...

“Wait!” he yelled. “Kiichi, stop it!”

But Kiichi didn’t listen. He blindly kept running... right towards the road.

He needed to slow down. He needed to stop, or else... Kimishita swallowed. Was it just his imagination, or could he hear a car approaching? No, it was real. Had Kiichi heard it? Had he noticed at all? He still wasn’t stopping. He needed to stop, or else–

“I said  _stop running, you fucking moron!_ ”

Kimishita’s voice reverberated off the buildings. Every part of his body sped up, dashing across the pavement faster than ever before.

Kiichi sped onto the road. Kimishita’s hand closed around Kiichi’s, yanking him back so roughly he almost lost balance. A few feet away from them a car rushed by.

The street was clear again, but Kimishita didn’t let go. He was still breathless. He was shaking, trembling, not with exhaustion or fear but with pure, unadulterated fury.

“Good fucking job, you idiot!” he burst out, the words exploding from him like an erupting volcano. “What did you think you were doing, huh? You were this close to running in front of a car! Are you blind, moron? Do you know how fucking close you just came to ending your soccer career forever?” His voice was hoarse, and he took a raspy breath. “At least watch your surroundings when you run away! Or, better yet, why don’t you try listening to what the fuck I have to say?”

Kiichi didn’t answer, and Kimishita slumped, all his fury evaporating. Now that he had yelled out his anger, now that the danger was over, the full scale of the situation hit him in the chest full force, and all he could do was cling to Kiichi’s hand as he waited to regain his breath, wishing his body would stop trembling with cold, untamed panic.

This idiot. This stupid, stupid idiot. Why did he have to be so reckless? Why did he have to do something so dangerous? He hadn’t even realized the risk he had taken, how close he had truly been to a terrible accident. But Kimishita had, and the thought that someone this precious, someone this dear and irreplaceable could have been broken or badly injured or worse... it was more acute, more terrifying than anything else he had ever felt.

And Kiichi... Kiichi had done that because of  _him_. This was all his fault.

“Kiichi...” He never wanted to let go of that hand, that reassurance that Kiichi was still there, safe and unharmed. “I’m so sorry.”

Kiichi’s entire body went stiff. The muscles in his hand tensed under Kimishita’s hands. For a moment he looked like he was about to break free of his grip and start running again.

“Sorry?” he repeated at last, but his voice was cold, distant. “For what?”

Kimishita swallowed. What should he say to that? Where should he start?

“I...” Damn it, his throat was tight. His chest was even tighter. It was hard to breathe, hard to speak, hard to think. “Listen–”

Kiichi’s muscles tightened even more. “I’m not gonna.”

“Wha–”

“I said I’m not gonna!” Kiichi shouted, spinning around to glare at him with pure pain in his eyes. “What do you wanna say? You already told me everything, asshole!”

Kimishita flinched. If Kiichi had punched him in the face, it would have been less painful.

“That’s not–”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Kiichi’s voice was rough with raw emotion, all semblance of self-restraint gone from his face to leave nothing but desperation. “You always do that shit! First you push me away and then you come back saying you’re sorry and we’re still friends and all that  _bullshit_!” He swallowed hard, his shoulders trembling like an earthquake. “But in the end you always do that again! You think I’m stupid? I know what you’re doing and I’m not buying it anymore! I’m so sick of your shit!”

Kimishita’s breath caught in his throat. For a second he couldn’t get a single word out. His hands nearly let go of Kiichi’s hand, his chest hurting like someone had stabbed it with a blade.

“Listen,” he forced out, keeping his voice from breaking by sheer willpower. “I realized that. I’m sorr–”

“If you hate me then just say it to my face!”

Kimishita stopped in his tracks. Horror-struck, he stared up at Kiichi’s face as if searching for an explanation, a hint that he had misheard, but there was nothing. Nothing except pain and anger and bitter, bitter frustration.

Kiichi’s eyes went wide as they met with Kimishita’s, then he swallowed, lowering his head and clenching his fist. “I get it,” he said quietly, his voice shaking so hard Kimishita could almost hear the tears gathering in his eyes. “You don’t want me around. You just let me ‘cause you felt bad or some shit... but you don’t gotta. I don’t wanna keep trying to be your friend if you just think I’m clingy.”

Kimishita gritted his teeth. His vision was blurry, his eyes burning, every part of his chest aching so much it felt like it was breaking to pieces. This was wrong, he thought over and over. This was so wrong. This was wrong and unfair, and all of it, every single part of it was his fault and his alone.

“You idiot.”

The words came out in a hoarse whisper, his voice cracking and crumbling apart. He could barely see anything anymore. It didn’t matter. The last of his self-restraint, his pride had come crumbling and falling down, crashing into a field of rubble on the ground. All that was left were raw emotions, fury and guilt and compassion and overwhelming affection fighting for dominance among the wreckage.

“I don’t hate you,” he rasped out, clinging to Kiichi’s hand for reassurance that he was still there, right here and not trying to run away and disappear on him once more. “What the fuck ever made you think that? What happened to the Kiichi who thinks the entire world loves and wants him?”

Kiichi said nothing. He didn’t move. His hand was still tense under Kimishita’s grip. But at least he listened now. He had stopped running away. Despite everything he was still here.

“Use your head,” Kimishita went on, his voice a tragic echo of all the times he had said these words with confidence and annoyance. “You’re upset right now, you’re exaggerating things! If you just bothered to look at everything rationally you’d understand, idiot!”

“But I can’t think rationally!” Kiichi burst out, wiping his eyes and stomping his foot. “I dunno shit about what you’re talking ‘bout! If you want me to believe you, make me!”

“I would if you let me finish!”

“So it’s all my fault again? I got it, asshole! The problem’s always me, right?”

“ _It’s mine!_ ”

The words exploded from Kimishita like it was someone else using his voice. He didn’t know what he was talking about anymore. He didn’t care. All he cared about, all that mattered was that he somehow calmed Kiichi down and made him understand just how much he mattered to him.

“I never noticed it before,” he admitted, closing his eyes and focusing on nothing but Kiichi’s hand in his, large and warm and steadying. “That you were always the one reaching out, and I never did... It wasn’t until Satou talked to me earlier that I understood.”

Kiichi stiffened slightly under his grip. “So you’re just saying all this ‘cause Hideki told you to?”

“No!” It took Kimishita everything, everything he had to keep himself from throwing all caution out the window and simply pulling Kiichi into his arms, clinging to him and burying his face in his coat or just screwing everything and kissing him on the spot. “Satou only told me what I just said. Before that, I thought...” He swallowed. “I thought you were annoyed with me and actually found me clingy.”

The tension in Kiichi’s hand loosened abruptly. “Why?”

“Because...”  _Because I realized I’m in love with you and thought you noticed._  No, he wouldn’t say that. Not yet. There was still too much to sort out, too much to fix. Maybe it was an excuse, but he didn’t feel ready yet, and honestly he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

“Because... I thought I got too close,” he said instead, and it wasn’t really a lie. “I’m not... I’m not used to being close to people, so... I’m not sure where the boundary lies. I thought I crossed it without knowing, and...” His face was heating up, and he turned away, clicking his tongue. “I know it was stupid. I won’t think that again.”

He opened his eyes, peering up at Kiichi and meeting a pair of wide eyes, no longer hurt but awestruck and incredulous. “Kimishita...”

A tingle of warmth perked up in Kimishita’s chest, a spark of hope amid all the messy emotions.  _I’m getting through to him,_  he thought triumphantly.  _He believes me._

“When I called you clingy... I didn’t mean it,” he grumbled, adamantly avoiding Kiichi’s gaze as his voice steadied out and his vision cleared up. “I was just... embarrassed. But I was happy.”

“...Really?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Do I look like I’m lying, idiot?”

“Nope.” There was a short pause, and when Kiichi spoke again his voice was light and giddy, almost happy. “So... you don’t hate me?”

Kimishita sighed. “Of course not, stupid.”

“And you don’t think I’m clingy?”

“You’re acceptable, I guess.”

“And you...” Kiichi’s voice trailed off, but when he continued he sounded more hopeful than ever. “You’re gonna reach out to me more now?”

Kimishita blushed and scowled. “Do I have to repeat everything I said?”

“That a yes?”

“Of course that’s a yes, moron!” Kimishita stared at the ground. “I’ll try, at least.”

Kiichi didn’t answer. He simply placed his free hand over Kimishita’s and squeezed it, and it was all the answer Kimishita needed to feel embarrassed but warm and happy and perfectly at peace.

“Before I do anything,” he said after a moment’s silence, and part of him still couldn’t believe he was saying something like this, “where are your boundaries? So I’ll...”  _So I’ll know how far I can go without betraying my feelings._  “So I’ll know how far I can go without making things awkward, I guess.”

Kiichi thought about that for a very long, slow moment. His hands didn’t let go of Kimishita’s for one second.

“...there’s nothing.”

Kimishita blinked. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing,” Kiichi repeated, blushing and staring across the street. “Do whatever you want. You’re never gonna make things awkward.”

Kimishita couldn’t and didn’t want to believe that, let alone understand it. There had to be something. But for now he nodded, half nervous, half relieved. “Deal.”

There was another silence. They simply continued to stand there with their hands stacked together, unwilling to part and let go but unsure what else to say. Kimishita closed his eyes. He should probably make good on his promise, he thought. But what would Kiichi do in such a situation? No, what would  _he_  want to do?

And then it hit him. He remembered.

“By the way,” he said, “you still planning to show me that movie someday? The kid one with the tropical fish?”

“It’s  _Finding Nemo_ ,” Kiichi replied with a pout. “And it’s not for kids!”

“Well, are you planning to show it to me or not?”

Kiichi’s eyes lit up, both with happiness and understanding. “Sure,” he said. “You free this weekend?”

“Even if I have work, my old man will make me take the day off when he hears I’m meeting a friend.”

“Okay. This weekend. My place.” Kiichi paused for a moment, then he added, “I still got popcorn.”

Kimishita snorted. Kiichi grinned. And suddenly it was like the entire mess since the missed date with Mizuki hadn’t happened, and they were still the same good friends they had been before.

“I’ll be there,” Kimishita replied with a smile. He hesitated, his face heating up again, but his determination was still fresh on his mind, and averting his gaze he added, “So... I can’t believe I’m saying this... but...”

“Hm?”

Kimishita swallowed.

“Want... a hug?”

Kiichi tackled him the second he finished the sentence.


	44. Nemo

Kimishita still felt a little nervous when he rang the doorbell this time, but compared to the past few times it was nothing at all.

Ever since their heart-to-heart in the middle of the street things had been okay between him and Kiichi again. He still felt a little strange around him sometimes, a little uncomfortable, a little concerned that he might somehow slip up and betray himself, but every time he thought about pulling back he reminded himself of Kiichi’s words, the look on his face, the pained accusation that he hated him, and repeated to himself that he wasn’t nearly as obvious as he had thought he was. It was okay. He could reach out all he wanted. No, he should. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it with all his might.

And now he was here, at his door, doing just that as he waited for it to open. Even if it was one of his parents who let him in this time, he wouldn’t mind. He was invited today. He was here to see his friend.

There was a patter of footsteps from inside, and from their hurried pace alone Kimishita already knew who it was. Then the door flew open, and he found himself inches away from Kiichi’s excited face.

He looked unexpectedly good, Kimishita had to admit. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen him in casual clothes a million times over, but today he somehow looked more handsome than usual; his hair seemed fluffier, and Kimishita had never seen this shirt on him before, simple but fitting his body like a glove, showing off his athletic build in all the right places. If he didn’t know better, Kimishita might have thought he had put more effort into his appearance than usual.

“Hey,” Kiichi said, crossing his arms and meeting his gaze with a sparkle in his eyes. “You’re late.”

“I’m on time,” Kimishita replied with a glance at his watch. “What, did you forget when we’re supposed to meet?”

Kiichi pouted and averted his eyes, looking a little caught as a touch of pink bloomed on his cheeks. “Nope,” he said in a tone that strongly suggested he probably had. “I remember everything.”

“Then why’d you complain, dumbass?”

“I didn’t complain.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Shut up.” Kimishita threw a smack at his arm, but it came off as more of an affectionate pat. “Are you planning to let me in, or should I freeze to the ground here?”

Kiichi made a face at him but stepped aside, letting him into the house and closing the door behind him. Kimishita unbuttoned his coat, but before he could take it off Kiichi gently lifted it off his shoulders, completely unnecessarily helping him slide out of it and hanging it with the other coats, looking extremely pleased with himself. Kimishita rolled his eyes. Knowing that idiot, he was probably thinking he had done something very gentlemanly... and in all honesty that was the case, cheesy and overdone as it was. Cheesy and overdone, but cute nonetheless.

_He’d make a great boyfriend someday._

Kimishita’s face heated up. Why was he thinking that? He couldn’t use thoughts like this right now. He was glad enough that he and Kiichi were back to being friends, and everything else could wait.

Besides, even if Kiichi definitely would make a good boyfriend, what would he ever get from that?

Taking off his shoes and placing them on the rack, Kimishita sighed, shaking off all thoughts of love and heartbreak and following Kiichi through the house. He wasn’t here for that today. He was here to have a good time, and he was here to keep a promise he had made to one of his dearest friends.

That last part definitely seemed to be working, because Kiichi was visibly in a good mood. There was a bounce to his step, and Kimishita didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning from ear to ear. Kimishita smiled too. It had been some time since he had seen him that happy, and after all the recent pain and fighting and hurting each other it was balm for his soul. If it was possible, he thought, he wanted Kiichi to always look this happy, every hour of the day and every day of the week. He had already been hurt so much. It was about time for life to pay him back with twice the happiness.

Almost bouncing up the stairs, Kiichi opened the door to his room, letting Kimishita in first and smiling smugly when he held his breath.

To say that Kiichi had popcorn had been an understatement. The couch table in front of the huge flatscreen TV was covered with every snack Kimishita had only dreamed of getting at the movie theater, from different kinds of popcorn to chocolate, potato chips, a dozen flavors of ice cream, and all the delightful little things that only seemed to be sold at movie theaters and whose names he had never bothered learning because he could never afford them anyway. There were bottles of soft drinks too, not the cheap generic-brand ones Kimishita sometimes bought but expensive ones, in more flavors than he had ever known existed. This wasn’t a normal assortment of snacks for a movie night among friends. This was enough to feed the entire Seiseki soccer club, and Kimishita couldn’t stop staring.

Closing the door behind him, Kiichi stepped closer, his face the very textbook definition of smug. “Like it?”

Kimishita opened and closed his mouth a few times, feebly searching for words, but all that finally came out was, “What the fuck, Kiichi.”

“Told ya,” Kiichi said in an infuriatingly casual tone. “I got popcorn.”

“Got popcorn my ass! This is enough to feed a fucking house party!”

“Problem?”

“The two of us can’t eat that much, idiot! You’re wasting food!”

Kiichi pouted, crossing his arms and glaring at an unspecified point in the distance. “You like it or not?”

Well, damn it. As much as Kimishita wanted to continue scolding him for being an irresponsible idiot who couldn’t calculate how much food the two of them needed, he couldn’t yell at him after that question. Because he knew Kiichi hadn’t simply miscalculated. Kiichi had set up this much out of generosity, because stupid and self-centered as he was, there was nothing he loved more than amazing people and making them happy with his kindness. This was only a suspicion, but Kimishita was almost certain he had put all this food here specifically because he knew how broke his guest was and how rarely he could afford to freely indulge in all the delicious things he wanted.

“Fine,” he grumbled, averting his eyes and clicking his tongue. “I like it, but don’t overdo it next time. Happy now?”

He glanced up at Kiichi and was met with such a proud, happy face that he nearly did a double-take.

“What?” he asked, torn between irritation at that self-satisfied look and adoration at the sheer cuteness radiating from the smile. “It’s no big deal, is it?”

Kiichi’s grin widened. “You just said there’s gonna be a next time.”

Kimishita flushed red. “Wha–?” he spluttered, trying to glare and failing miserably. “I only said that! It doesn’t mean–” Kiichi’s face fell, and he stopped in his tracks, remembering their argument, his promise. “I mean...” Great, now his blush was getting even worse. “Unless... unless you want to.”

Kiichi’s face lit up again, and Kimishita sighed. Damn this guy and his uncanny ability to always be so cute, so effortlessly adorable that Kimishita barely knew what to do with himself. He was completely irresistible, and that very thing was what made him so dangerous.

_I’m getting swept up,_  Kimishita thought with a twang of melancholy.  _This is bad. Keep this up, and I’ll get so caught up I’m never going to recover from this one._

Thinking reasonably, he was doing the worst thing imaginable. Kiichi was still hopelessly in love with someone else, and here he was, spending all this time with this stupid, warm, caring idiot and falling even deeper in love than before. He was bound to get hurt this way, and yet he couldn’t change what he was doing. Not just because of his promise to Kiichi. He wanted to be with him, simply because the alternative meant missing him so much that even heartbreak didn’t sound so bad in comparison.

Kiichi sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to him, and Kimishita followed, keeping just as much distance between them as personal space dictated. No matter what Kiichi had said about having no boundaries, he still didn’t want to believe that. No need to unnecessarily betray himself, he thought. For the time being, just being good friends like this was enough.

Still in a visibly good mood, Kiichi started the movie, reaching over the couch table to get a bag of popcorn and glance questioningly at Kimishita to see what he wanted. Kimishita hesitated, then he motioned towards the ice cream, for no particular reason except that it would melt if it wasn’t eaten soon. Kiichi nodded and handed it to him – strawberry ice cream, Kimishita observed, out of all the flavors he could have chosen – and Kimishita took it, his fingers brushing over Kiichi’s as he did, warm against the coldness of the ice cream. Blushing and jolting, he flinched back slightly, but Kiichi didn’t seem to mind, and Kimishita sighed and focused on the movie to calm down the pounding in his chest.

It was surprisingly good for an animated children’s movie, he found. The animation still held up well despite the movie’s age, and the story was compelling and a lot less silly than anything he had expected from a picture with animated talking fish. Granted, it took some liberties with the way sea life worked, to say the least; Kimishita had heard of fish schools before, but never in the human sense with teachers and field trips. But beyond those ridiculous ideas it felt surprisingly vivid, a story of family and friendship and survival that felt universal and characters that came to life on the screen in ways he had never expected to see. And all of it was filled with marine beauty, countless creatures in all shapes and sizes and colors some of which he recognized from the aquarium, but most of which he had only ever seen in books, if at all. It was like he was there, under the sea with all those fish and whales and jellyfish and sea turtles, and he couldn’t look away.

Once in a while, however, he did glance away from the screen to peer at Kiichi. He only meant to look at his face, see his reactions. But what he saw made his heart skip a beat every time.

To say that Kiichi was invested in this movie was an understatement. He was completely immersed, enveloped in the story from all sides, mouthing along every line of dialogue in perfect sync with the movie like someone who had seen it a thousand times yet on edge at every development, no matter how much he undoubtedly saw it coming. He laughed at every joke, smiled at every heartwarming moment and tensed at every dangerous one, and once or twice Kimishita even thought he caught him with tears in his eyes. No matter how many times he had seen this movie since his childhood, it still wasn’t stale to him, and he still loved every second as much as he had the first time.

Kimishita smiled. It was somehow sweet to see, all this emotion, this level of loyalty for a simple animated movie, the way he could look at something he had seen a million times over and still find so much to love. It was like with everything he loved; once it found its way into his heart it was there to stay, and he refused to let it back out no matter what happened. For years, sometimes. Some other times, for his entire life.

_I wonder what category that person falls into._

Kimishita swallowed that thought. He wasn’t here to worry about these things, he reminded himself. It wasn’t like he was going to find out about the person Kiichi loved anytime soon either. Best forget about it and simply enjoy his presence, the fact that he was here next to him and they were alone, curled up on the couch with their eyes glued to the screen, as close to an actual couple as they would ever be.

He tried to focus back on the movie, but occasionally his eyes still flitted over to Kiichi. One time it went unnoticed. The second time Kiichi met his gaze, and just as he was about to turn away and pretend it had been an accident he felt an arm wrapping about his shoulders, pulling him close against Kiichi’s side.

Kimishita’s breath hitched. His entire body tensed, and for a second he almost pushed Kiichi away and tried to escape on instinct.

“Idiot,” he hissed, his heartbeat pounding wildly in his ears. “What are you doing?”

Kiichi didn’t meet his gaze. “Nothing.”

Kimishita opened his mouth, wanting to say something, wanting to snap at him or ask so many questions, but in the end he stayed silent. No need. All that mattered was Kiichi’s arm around his shoulders, his body against his own, warm and comforting in a way words couldn’t describe. Asking questions could always wait for later.

So he only sighed, shifting against Kiichi’s side and resting his head on his shoulder, one hand moving up to close around Kiichi’s where it lay on his arm. He didn’t know why exactly he had done that either. All he knew was that it felt right, long-awaited and welcome, like the first young buds at the end of winter or a cloudless sky after a month of rain.

He had wished for this for so long. So long, and he hadn’t even recognized it. He hadn’t understood. And all this time Kiichi had been right next to him, offering him all he wanted without waiting to be asked for it.

Well, not  _all_  he wanted. There was one thing he couldn’t offer. But even if it was platonic, Kiichi’s warm, genuine affection felt better than everything he had ever done with Mizuki.

Because... this was real. Kiichi didn’t do this just to make Kimishita happy. Kiichi did this because he wanted to. He might not mean it in the way Kimishita hoped for. But he meant it all the same.

...Or did he?

Even if he did crave these touches, who said he was truly craving them from Kimishita and not... someone else?

He shouldn’t be worried, Kimishita knew. Even if he did, that wouldn’t make those touches any more genuine, any more wanted and needed on his side. Kiichi wasn’t doing this to do him a favor. Kiichi was doing this because he wanted to, and for that reason alone his embrace felt a million times better than Mizuki’s ever could.

Kimishita knew all that. And yet he couldn’t stop questioning. He couldn’t stop asking himself what Kiichi was feeling, what was truly going on in his head. If these touches were meant for him, and this was his brand of platonic affection... or if he was picturing the person he loved, and Kimishita wasn’t on his mind at all.

Not that it mattered, he thought bitterly. His feelings were doomed to be one-sided either way.

The movie came to an end, and the credits started to roll. Kiichi hummed along to the ending song, happy and a little off-key, and Kimishita tried to relax. These were the last few minutes he could enjoy like that, he thought. Once the movie was over, what reason did he have to stay?

Then the end credits finished, the song was over, and silence filled the room as the magic of the movie slowly gave way to reality once more.

“So?” Kiichi asked after a very long silence, turning towards Kimishita as if snapping out of a daze, still not letting go of his shoulders.

Kimishita stared back at him in confusion. “So... what?”

“The movie.” Kiichi lounged across the couch, leaning heavily on Kimishita’s side and nearly knocking him over. “Did you like it?”

Kimishita could lie, he knew. It would be easy. All he’d have to do was be his usual irritable self; it was much easier than the alternative, the embarrassment that came with admitting he had liked a stupid children’s movie with talking fish. But he wasn’t that kind of person anymore. He wasn’t the kind of person who furiously denied anything and everything he felt until he exploded, simply because admitting it would be embarrassing. That was in the past, and his current self... his current self would get flustered and tell the truth anyway.

“I guess,” he grumbled, unable to meet Kiichi’s gaze. “It’s... surprisingly good for a kids’ movie. I can see why you like it.”

Kiichi’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Why should I lie about something like that, idiot!”

Kiichi’s eyes shone and sparkled. His whole face was alight with excitement as he stretched and adjusted himself against Kimishita, nearly crushing him under his weight before changing his mind and pulling him towards himself instead. “Then we gotta watch  _Finding Dory_  next time,” he said. “You’re gonna like it too.”

“Wha– There’s a  _sequel_?!”

“Yup. It’s new.”

Kimishita sighed. “Another one of your childish movies,” he said. “But fine. I’ll give it a try sometime.”

After all, who was he to say no to another movie night with Kiichi?

Kiichi smiled and almost started making plans for the next movie night on the spot before interrupting himself and starting to pester Kimishita with questions about the movie instead. And he wanted to know everything. Every detail, every favorite, every opinion on every little thing he had observed during the movie. Kimishita rolled his eyes, but he answered the questions, quietly playing along with Kiichi’s enthusiasm for no reason except that it allowed him to stay a little longer, sitting here draped against Kiichi’s side with his head resting on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat as he spoke.

At long last Kiichi ran out of questions, and silence fell. Kimishita tensed up. They had nothing else left to talk about for tonight. It was getting late too, and he would soon start intruding. Right now it was probably best if he left and–

“I first saw it when it came out,” Kiichi said quietly into his hair.

Kimishita blinked. “Huh?”

“As a kid. In the movie theater.” Kiichi closed his eyes, his hand drifting from Kimishita’s shoulder down his arm and onto his waist, lingering on his side. “It was Mom’s idea I think... she likes the ocean and shit too, and she said we had to spend more family time together. Or something.”

Kimishita didn’t answer. He only gave a quiet hum to show that he was listening.

“I wasn’t that excited to go,” Kiichi went on. “I thought fish were kinda boring ‘cause all they do is swim around. And Sis said she didn’t wanna see lame-ass kid movie ‘cause she’s so smart and mature or something. I dunno, it was dumb.”

Kimishita snorted. “Sounds like me as a kid.”

“You were too broke for the movies anyway.”

“Fuck you too.”

Kiichi cracked a smirk. Kimishita did the same. No matter what he did, he would never miss their playful banter in the middle of the most unfitting moments.

“So Mom kinda dragged us to that movie,” Kiichi said after a moment of silence, “and... I dunno. I came out and talked about nothing but tropical fish for weeks. I wanted my own Nemo but Mom and Dad said no ‘cause they need salt water and they’re hard to keep and I just... practiced till I knew everything about every fish ever.”

Kimishita smiled. The mental image of little Kiichi pestering his parents with fish knowledge until they got him what he wanted was surprisingly adorable.

“That movie really changed you, huh,” he said fondly.

Kiichi nodded. “Yup. It was my childhood.” His face got a wistful, faraway look of happy nostalgia. “I guess I kinda related to Nemo. And the fish were just fucking cool. I’ve watched it a million times and it’s still not boring.”

“What did you relate to Nemo for, doing stupid reckless shit and getting in trouble?”

“He was cool! And brave!” Kiichi lifted his nose high into the air, looking irritatingly smug. “Just like me.”

“And prone to making messes that get lots of people in trouble, just like you.”

“That’s what I got you for.”

Kimishita sighed, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Can’t argue with that.”

Silence fell once more. Kimishita felt sluggish, a warm, comfortable sleepiness creeping up on him as he lay there curled up against Kiichi’s side. He didn’t want to leave just yet. He probably should, he knew. It was getting later and later. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“It’s getting late,” he said at last, hesitantly straightening against Kiichi’s hold. “I should probably–”

“Nope.” The hold on him tightened, and before he knew what was happening he found himself turned around and pulled into an embrace, losing balance and nearly landing on Kiichi’s lap. Warm breath tickled the top of his head, a nose burying itself in his hair with a mumble. “Stay here. Just a bit longer.”

Kimishita tensed, then he relaxed completely, melting against Kiichi’s chest and resting his face in the fabric of his shirt.  _There’s nothing I’d like to do more,_  he thought.  _Just a little longer._

Kiichi sighed into his hair and pulled him closer. Kimishita wrapped his arms around Kiichi’s back and tried not to think, tried to ignore all the fears and doubts and worries that lingered at the back of his mind. Was it truly him that Kiichi meant to be hugging like this? Wasn’t this going a little too far to be platonic? Could friends cuddle as closely as they currently did, or had he drifted off into his imagination again?

Maybe... he should ask. He had never really asked about the person Kiichi loved before. And the more he thought about it, the less fair that seemed. Kiichi had listened to all his nonsense about Mizuki. Wasn’t it time for him to return the favor?

“Say,” he said quietly, hoping Kiichi wouldn’t notice the way his heart started pounding, the way his face heated up. “Right now... are you thinking of that person you like?”

Kiichi hesitated. His nose slid out of Kimishita’s hair as he turned his head away, his expression unreadable.

“Mhm,” he muttered. “I guess.”

Kimishita felt a stab. For a second he almost felt tempted to slide out of the hug and go home on the spot. What was he doing here? Kiichi didn’t mean to hold  _him_  like that. He only needed him as a replacement, because the person he truly liked was too blind to return his feelings.

Why was he even surprised? He had expected that from the beginning, hadn’t he?

Kiichi had been like that from the very beginning, after all. Every one of his hugs, his clings, his touches felt genuine, and the kiss had felt so real even Kimishita hadn’t been able to truly pretend it was Mizuki. But that didn’t mean anything. From the very beginning, the one he had pictured had always been someone else. The only thing that had changed in all this were Kimishita’s feelings.

“What about you?” Kiichi asked after a moment, and Kimishita lifted his head. “Thinking ‘bout Captain?”

He hadn’t wanted to lie. He really hadn’t.

But if nothing had changed, nothing aside from his own affections, then there was no need to tell him the truth. Best to pretend it was all the same as always. Back to normal, before messy fights and feelings intervened.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “What else?”

Kiichi didn’t reply to that. He simply went back to burying his nose in Kimishita’s hair, but somehow he just looked a tiny bit sadder than before.


	45. Hoping

Ooshiba couldn’t sleep.

He had been lying awake for hours and hours on end, and still he felt awake, too awake to even think of closing his eyes. No, not just that. He was restless, like a caged animal that needed to run miles and miles across the plains but was confined to its tiny space, like a goldfish in a small glass, searching for a way out but hitting an invisible wall no matter which way he tried to escape.

He could still feel Kimishita on his skin. He could sense him with every inch of his body, the smell of his hair, the grip of his arms, the lingering warmth remaining everywhere their bodies had touched. Warm, quiet, comfortable,  _real_. So real that even now he could still hear Kimishita’s heartbeat pounding against his skin alongside his own.

Kimishita had looked so happy, so comfortable. He had completely put aside his usual bristliness and melted into his arms, softening up and relaxing completely. It had seemed so genuine, too. Like it was truly Ooshiba’s presence he was finding solace in this time, Ooshiba’s and not Mizuki’s.

But of course that had all been a lie.

Ooshiba rolled over, covering his eyes under his arm with a curse. He didn’t know why he had hoped. He didn’t know what he had been thinking. Kimishita wasn’t interested in him. Kimishita loved  _Mizuki_ , why couldn’t he get that into his head?

And yet, some part of him whispered, all hope might not yet be lost.

After all, their whole fight and the aftermath hadn’t been just pretend. It was him Kimishita had run after. His hand he had grabbed and held onto for the entirety of the conversation, him he had yelled at with so much horror and panic in his voice that it couldn’t possibly have been pretend. Kimishita had apologized to  _him_. Kimishita had admitted that  _his_  words had made him happy. Kimishita had asked  _him_  about his boundaries, had worried about making things awkward with  _him_ , asked  _him_  on this movie night. Him, and him alone. Not Mizuki. All these things had been directed at Ooshiba as a person and no one else in the world.

All of that had to mean something, right?

He laughed bitterly. Yeah, right. So maybe Kimishita did like him, but only as a friend. So maybe he cared about him, and worried over him, and didn’t want to lose him. So what? That didn’t have to mean he stood the slightest chance. It could simply mean that he felt the same way Ooshiba felt about Hideki, strong friendship and nothing more.

_Cut it. Stop hoping. He doesn’t like you that way. You’re not Captain._

But now that this seed of hope had been planted into his heart, he simply couldn’t bring himself to tear it out anymore.

\---

Well, that had been a complete non-answer.

Kimishita stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together everything that had gone down with Kiichi today. Being with him had felt so good, too good to be true. All the warmth, all the comfort, all the affection that he could never ask from anyone else... but now that he was alone again, it felt like all he was doing was walk on a treadmill and never go anywhere.

They were back to the point before the kiss disaster, before all the fighting and pushing each other away and the confusing feelings that had come with it. But that was exactly the problem. They hadn’t progressed at all. So much had happened, and in the end all they had done was come full circle back to the very point from which they had started.

And what now?

Part of that answer was clear, Kimishita knew. He had to break up with Mizuki. Every day they spent together as a couple in name only was another day of keeping up a lie, an obligation that had lost all use for him by now. Even on the off chance that Kiichi ever developed an interest in him, nothing could ever come of it as long as he wasn’t single. And being taken by someone else might even keep people from getting interested in him that way in the first place. Either way it was pointless. After all, he didn’t need the excuse of wanting a replacement to be allowed close to Kiichi anymore. Today had been proof enough of that.

But after he ended things with Mizuki... what should he do next?

The simple answer, Kimishita thought, would probably be to confess. Someone who was better with all this, someone who wasn’t a million kinds of confused and insecure and frustrated, would simply go up to Kiichi and spill the beans, waiting for the answer and accepting it calmly, whatever it was. Someone more normal might even think they stood a pretty good chance, going by Kiichi’s behavior. But Kimishita wasn’t that someone. He couldn’t act like that. And he couldn’t be like other people and get his hopes up, either.

Confessing... The thought alone made him shudder, his body chilling to the core as his hands grew clammy and started shaking. Impossible. Impossible. Even if he took the risk, even if he told Kiichi how he felt...

Images mingled together in his head. Kiichi, speaking quietly of the person he liked without ever giving any details. His failed confession to Mizuki. The trip-ups, the shame. The awkwardness. The fear, the hope, all the pain that had come from it. No, he couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t spiral into something like this again. It had been bad enough with Mizuki. But with Kiichi...

No. Not in a million years. Never ever.

Kimishita groaned.

But if asking Kiichi out wasn’t an option... then what was?

\---

“So,” Nakazawa said with a sigh, staring intently at his cold coffee and looking very much like he hadn’t slept in two days, “what do you think about it?”

Usui crossed his legs, lightly quirking up an eyebrow as a smile tugged at his lips. “It’s your choice, sensei,” he said innocently. “You’re the coach. Why would you consult me on who should be the next captain?”

He knew exactly why, of course, but that didn’t mean Usui couldn’t mess with the poor coach a little, just for his own amusement. It was one of the last few times they could sit together like that and discuss the team and strategy, so he supposed a joke between friends for old times’ sake wasn’t too much to expect.

“You already know why, vice-captain,” Nakazawa replied, to used to Usui’s attitude to bat a single eye. “You know these kids better than I do. Especially the current second-years. They’re a difficult bunch to choose from.”

This time it was Usui’s turn to sigh. Unfortunately he was right. The second-years didn’t have a lot of regulars to begin with, and choosing a benchwarmer as the captain probably wasn’t the best idea. So that left exactly four people. Satou and Suzuki were reasonable enough, he admitted, but neither of them were natural leaders, although Suzuki might make for a pretty good vice-captain depending on who he was paired with. And then... there were Kimishita and Shiba. A pair of idiots who were caught up in a lot of personal drama, constantly alternating between being suspiciously close and not talking to each other at all, to say nothing of how irresponsible they both were. Shiba wanted to be captain but was a gullible, bratty man-child, so it would be a gamble. Kimishita would be good to keep him in check with his common sense, but his social skills were even worse than Shiba’s... Should they risk it? In terms of trust those two would make the best combination, but was that the only thing that counted?

“Well,” he said at last, “the safest bet would be Satou and Suzuki, but...”

“I thought the strongest player should be captain.”

Usui’s smile slipped a little. He couldn’t believe Nakazawa was using his own words against him here, the same words he had only said to get out of being captain himself. Not that the coach knew. It was only natural for him to believe in his conviction, he supposed.

“The strongest player,” he repeated slowly, frowning to himself. “Out of the second-years, that would be Shiba.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward silence. Both of them knew the other was thinking the same.

“He’s improved lately,” Usui offered at last. “If he goes on like this, he’ll make a pretty good captain.”

Nakazawa only took a sip of his coffee and made a face when he found it cold.

“And he’s still more adjusted than Mizuki,” Usui went on. “Mizuki did a good job, so Shiba should be fine. He’ll just need a vice-captain who keeps him in check.”

Nakazawa put down his cup. “Kimishita.”

“I’m not saying that.” Frowning, Usui stared down at his hands, lightly drumming his fingers onto the table. “Kimishita is definitely the one Shiba listens to the most, and he’s smart enough to make up for Shiba’s stupidity, but I don’t think he’d be very good at leading the team, you know?”

“Bad social skills?”

“Awful. And he looks away from the team too much. A vice-captain has to watch over his team, not look what rival teams are doing. That’s the captain’s job.”  _And besides,_  Usui thought,  _having a captain and vice-captain who still need to sort out their love drama might not be the best idea in the first place.  
_

Nakazawa pulled at the knot of his tie to make it even more lopsided than it already was. “So who do you think would be better then?”

“Suzuki.”

“Suzuki, huh.” Nakazawa took another sip from his coffee, raising an eyebrow and staring at the dark ring the cup had left on the desk. “Why him of all people?”

“Because he’s observant,” Usui answered. This answer wasn’t difficult. He had thought about his potential successors over and over again, and by now he had pretty much made up his mind. “He’s better at reading people than Kimishita, and he can easily tell when something needs to be done and do everything he needs to fix it. That’s exactly how a vice-captain has to be.” He paused, a slight frown falling over his face. “There’s just one problem.”

Nakazawa’s expression turned tired, even for his standards. It was clear as day that he knew exactly what Usui was referring to. “Let me guess,” he muttered, staring at his half-empty coffee cup. “He and Ooshiba...”

“...would have to learn to work together first, yeah.” Usui cracked a slight smile. “They’re on okay terms, but I’m pretty sure Shiba would prefer Satou or Kimishita as his vice-captain instead.”

“You think he’ll throw a fit?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Fantastic.” Giving up on his coffee, Nakazawa put his cup down and leaned back in his chair. “Any way we can solve that before it gets official and he gives off a terrible first impression?”

Usui thought for a moment. Maybe there was another alternative, but honestly, nothing could be better than the simple solution anyway. “Hold on,” he said, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “There’s an easy way.”

“You’re not planning to...?”

“Just testing the waters.” Usui smiled with amusement. “I won’t tell him officially, don’t worry.”

Taking delight in Nakazawa’s utterly confused expression, Usui dialed Shiba’s number and waited for him to pick up.

He didn’t have to wait long. After two or three rings there was a click in the line, and then Shiba’s voice answered, surprised and a little disgruntled. “Usui-senpai?”

“Good evening, Shiba,” Usui said, careful to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Are you busy right now? I don’t mean to disturb you.”

There was a short pause, then Shiba spoke again. “Not really,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Just something I’ve been wondering.” Sound nonchalant, Usui reminded himself. “It’ll be time to nominate the captains and vice-captains soon, you know, and–”

“Is it gonna be me?”

Usui chuckled. The childish excitement in Shiba’s voice truly was something else, like a six-year-old who made a big deal out of being made captain of his elementary school team. Completely different from Mizuki’s reaction. But amusing nonetheless.

“I don’t know anything yet,” Usui answered. “I’m just speculating. But supposing it is you–” Shiba’s breath hitched, and Usui quickly brought up a hand– “just supposing, remember – who would you want as your vice-captain?”

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation. “Kimishita.”

“Kimishita, huh.” Nakazawa raised his eyebrows, and Usui made a pacifying gesture and turned back to the phone. “Not to doubt your judgment, but are you sure? I mean, there are other candidates.”

“There are not.”

“There are. You’re forgetting Satou and Suzuki, for exa–”

“No!” There was a thud from the other end of the line, as if Shiba had furiously stomped his foot in protest. “I don’t want them! I want Kimishita!”

Usui sighed. Convincing him would be hard, he thought, much harder than expected. If it was even possible at all. “Why not?” he asked, telling himself to stay patient; unlike with Kimishita, the intimidation tactic wouldn’t help him here. “You’re friends with them too, aren’t you?”

“But they’re not the same.” The pout in Shiba’s voice was all too evident. “It’s gotta be Kimishita. Without him...” His voice trailed off. “He’s just better for the job. I know that.”

“Because he’s known you longer?”

“Yup,” Shiba said so eagerly that Usui almost chuckled. It was glaringly obvious that he was simply latching onto the suggestion to justify his irrational feelings. “He’s my oldest and most loyal follower. Nobody else can get the spot.”

Usui couldn’t hide a smile. “That’s not a very good reason to make soemone your vice-captain, you know.”

“Then what is?” Shiba gave an annoyed huff. “Trust or some shit? I trust Kimishita! Way more than the others!”

“Oh?”

Truth be told, Usui was already convinced. There was no need to push Shiba any further; but now that he had taken things this far, it would be a wasted opportunity to not push him a little further, just far enough to get him to admit even more. It wasn’t every day that he got to hear Ooshiba Kiichi loudly declaring anything nice about Kimishita, after all.

“And he’s smart,” Shiba went on. “He always has a strategy. He knows how to read all those complicated-ass kanji too. A vice-captain’s gotta be smart, right?”

“He does,” Usui admitted with growing amusement. “But don’t you think he cares too much about other teams and too little about his own?”

Another furious stomp. “He doesn’t!” Shiba exclaimed, sounding offended at the very concept. “He cares a lot! He always wants what’s best for the team! And he always knows how everyone can get better! He’s helped me every time I needed advice and it’s always worked fine!” There was a pause, short but somehow hesitant, and Usui couldn’t help imagining a blush blossoming across his poor underclassman’s cheeks. “I mean. He’s grumpy and antisocial. And kind of an asshole sometimes. But he cares! I know he cares! Got it?”

“Okay, okay, Shiba. Thank you.” Nakazawa threw him a questioning glance, and Usui made a motion to wait just a little longer. “I don’t have that much influence on the next captain and vice-captain, but if they ask me, I’ll tell them what you said.”

He paused for a second, hesitating, then he followed a sudden impulse and added, “Just out of curiosity, would you tell Kimishita all that to his face?”

Stunned silence on the other end of the line. Then there was a loud clatter, as if Shiba had dropped something in his surprise. Maybe his phone.

“Don’t answer that,” Usui chimed into the speaker. “Bye, Shiba!”

And just like that, he hung up.

“So?” Nakazawa asked as Usui returned to the desk. “What’d he say?”

Usui gave a light shrug. “Kimishita or no one.”

“Great. What do we do about this?”

“I guess it’s a bit of a gamble,” Usui replied with an exasperated sigh, “but we could try granting him his wish, couldn’t we?”

\---

Ooshiba stared at his phone where it lay on the ground, his entire face glowing so hot it felt like he had a fever.

_Would you tell Kimishita all that to his face?_  What the hell kind of question was that? That was weird, really weird! And lame. Why on earth should Usui want him to tell Kimishita those things? No way he’d do that. Kimishita would only call him lame or a sap if he did, anyway.

Well, the old Kimishita would. The current Kimishita might not. After all, this was the same guy who had apologized for rejecting him so harshly. The same guy who had told him he simply hadn’t been able to handle his words because they made him happy, the same guy who had held his hand the entire time he had said that. The same guy who had come over this weekend and cuddled with him on the couch. Kimishita wouldn’t resist compliments and affection as much anymore. He could tell him now and not worry about rejection.

And it wasn’t like Ooshiba had much of a problem showing affection to Kimishita these days anyway, he mused. Just a few days ago he had pulled him back into his arms and cuddled him closer without hesitation, and he was pretty sure he had told Kimishita how highly he thought of him before too. Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t think about telling him now. Because it wasn’t necessary. Because after all their time together, Kimishita already knew.

Shouldn’t Usui know that too? The vice-captain was smart, wasn’t he?

Wait. If he was that smart... he might have been speaking in some sort of code. Say one thing and mean another. Smart people did that, right?

So... what had he been referring to?

\---

The question hadn’t let go of Kimishita all day, but that didn’t mean he was any closer to the answer.

What should he do? He still hadn’t found the right moment to break up with Mizuki. The captain hadn’t been at practice today, busy with school, Nakazawa had told the underclassmen. It was definitely time for the next captain and vice-captain to be announced, but for some reason no one had said anything yet. The coach had to be hesitating a lot, or perhaps he had already made up his mind but chosen to tell the one in question privately before making his decision public and official.

_Captain_... Once again Kimishita thought back to his conversation with Kiichi, his hopes of leading the team in their third year, his promise to accept no one but Kimishita as his number two. He wondered how serious he had been. Knowing him, extremely. But how much could he really do? It wasn’t like any fit he threw could change the coach’s mind, could it?

Not that Kimishita understood why Kiichi would want him of all people as his vice-captain in the first place. They knew each other well, sure. They had been a team since the first year of middle school, and they trusted each other a hundred and ten percent. So what? He trusted Satou and Suzuki too. Even if he still preferred Kimishita as his vice-captain, there was no reason for him to flat-out refuse anyone else, was there?

Unless...

_Unless what?_  he asked himself irritably.  _There could be a million reasons you can’t even think of. Stop trying to tell yourself it has anything to do with what you hope it is. For the last time!_

Enough of this. Enough of hoping and destroying that hope. He couldn’t keep on running in circles. What Kiichi felt for him was merely speculation. He couldn’t let that speculation determine everything he did from now on.

_Except that him liking me or not is actually relevant here, huh._

Kimishita raked his hands through his hair in frustration. That was exactly the problem here. After breaking up with Mizuki, he had to decide if he wanted to make a move on Kiichi or not. And for that he needed to know if it was safe to let him know about his feelings.

His chances were minimal, he knew that. As long as that other person was in the picture, he could barely hope. But maybe, however unlikely, however minimal, he did stand a chance. And maybe that chance would just get the tiniest bit bigger if Kiichi knew he loved him.

Or, he thought, it would result in rejection. Humiliation. A ruined friendship. Or, worst of all, yet another relationship of pity-dating, except that he wouldn’t have a replacement this time.

Not worth it. Not worth it. Not worth the trouble.

But what if he did stand a chance? What if he only needed to try and would regret it if he didn’t?

Kimishita shook his head. Unlikely. Much too unlikely. With Mizuki the opposite had happened. He had regretted ever making a move in the first place. No, he still did. He should never have made the mistake of falling for him at all.

So, staying friends it was. For now, anyway. He could always figure out the rest later. Maybe when Kiichi’s feelings changed, or maybe when he himself moved on. The only problem would be that he couldn’t use the replacement excuse anymore. Would Kiichi still accept affection from him without it? Was that truly a price he was willing to pay?

_That’s bullshit reasoning, and you know it._

Kimishita closed his eyes. The voice of reason in his brain was right, as usual. Kiichi wasn’t that kind of person. He had always been cuddly, embarrassingly clingy and touchy-feely, and the past days and weeks had been proof enough of that. The one he had taken to the aquarium and the Skytree, the one he had tackle-hugged after their victory, the one whose hands he had held when they had made up... that had all been him. The one he had cuddled with on the couch... the one he had pulled closer, asking him not to go...

Well, maybe that last one hadn’t been truly meant for him. But the others had. He’d manage. It wasn’t like Kiichi would completely turn his back on him just for breaking up with Mizuki, right?

...Right?

So, ending things with Mizuki, and no making moves on Kiichi. Just maintain the status quo, wait and see. That was the plan, and–

His phone rang before he could finish the thought.

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita scrambled to pick it up just to silence it. But when his eyes fell upon the caller ID, his heart skipped a beat.

Kiichi? What on earth did he want when they had seen each other at school today?

Without hesitation he picked up and didn’t even get to open his mouth when he was met with an eardrum-shattering yell.

“ _Kimishita!_ ”

He winced and groaned. “Kiichi,” he said, holding the phone at arm’s length in case the idiot wasn’t done shouting just yet. “You’re too loud, idiot! What do you want?”

“I just got a call from Usui-senpai!” If Kiichi had heard his complaint, he definitely didn’t respond to it. “And he says I might become captain! But you know what? He tried to talk me outta making you my vice-captain! Can you believe this shit?  _You!_  Even though you’d make the best vice-captain ever!”

Kimishita stared at the phone in disbelief. “What are you...?”

“Shut up! I’m fucking pissed!” There was a dull thud from the speaker, as if Kiichi had punched something or stomped his foot. “He said you don’t care ‘bout the team enough or some shit! That you look at other teams too much! Even though it’s your job ‘cause you always gotta know what to do in a match!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, but he couldn’t fight the blush on his cheeks, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Calm down, moron!” he said. “It’s nothing to get so angry about!”

“Yeah, it is! You’re perfect as a vice-captain and nobody believes me! Not even you, asshole!” Kiichi let out a huff, then the anger in his voice faded, and he continued in a tone of infuriating smugness. “But I know it,” he said. “And I’m gonna prove everyone wrong ‘cause you’re gonna be the best vice-captain in history ever!”

“Just good would be enough, stupid!”

“But you’re not just gonna be good! You’re gonna be awesome! ‘Cause I chose you, and I only choose the best of the best!”

Kimishita sighed. The burning heat on his cheeks was getting too strong to ignore.

As was the stupid, embarrassed smile on his face.

“Idiot,” he said, but the word came out fond, affectionate. “Don’t use me to brag.”

Kiichi gave another huff. “I’m gonna brag ‘bout you all I wanna. You deserve it.”

...Was he doing that on purpose?

“Fine,” Kimishita said, burying his face in his free hand and sighing. “I accept your praise, now calm down. Or did you just call me to tell me that?”

There was a beat of silence from the other end of the line, then Kiichi replied with audible embarrassment in his voice. “Fuck off,” he grumbled. “I had to tell someone!”

“Kid.”

“You wanna fight?”

“Not right now.” Kimishita leaned back in his chair, the grateful, incredulous, happy smile still pulling at his face. “Save that up for when they announce the actual captains.”

“Who says I’m gonna fight you there?”

“Force of habit, experience...”

“Shut up!”

“You too.” Kimishita hesitated, then he added, “See you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Yup. See ya.”

Kimishita hung up and slumped face-first onto the cash desk.

He shouldn’t be hoping. He shouldn’t be hoping. But... ah, damn it. Damn it all. He was so happy. So happy he couldn’t help but hope anyway.

Maybe he shouldn’t write off Kiichi just yet, after all. Maybe he shouldn’t just maintain the status quo and wait and see if anything changed. He might still have a chance. No matter how small it was.

So, change of plans. He would break up with Mizuki tomorrow, for real this time.

And afterwards... he would try to test the waters. Just a little.


	46. Free

Kimishita had expected to be afraid of talking to Mizuki, but somehow what he felt was the opposite. He wasn’t nervous at all. Not even tense. If anything he felt almost... good.

Maybe it was because he had no doubts about this, he thought. Not even the slightest hint of one. Every part of him was so convinced, so certain that he’d be fine, so perfectly reassured that what he was about to do was the only right thing.

Even the moment was right, he thought. Mizuki was just about to step down as the team’s captain. Soon enough they wouldn’t see each other anymore outside of team reunions, and oddly enough that thought didn’t make him sad anymore. He had thought he would miss Mizuki more as a person, not just as his crush, but in the end he wasn’t the type to get overly attached to too many people after all. He didn’t feel the need to keep seeing the captain every day anymore. The thought that they could still call and message each other at any time was more than enough.

Their relationship had officially hit its expiration date. Kimishita had moved on. Mizuki was leaving and going pro. Even a couple who truly loved each other would have needed to ask themselves if they could stay together when Mizuki would be a busy, popular soccer player so soon, to say nothing of the problems that would undoubtedly arise if anyone discovered he had a boyfriend. Kimishita was doing what was right, without questions, without risks, without regrets, and that knowledge carried him through the school day with ease, keeping him so steady he almost couldn’t believe it himself.

He didn’t wait until after school to talk to Mizuki this time. There was no reason to be afraid of facing him after this. On the contrary. The sooner he got this over with, the better.

If he wanted to talk to Mizuki in peace, that left him exactly one opening.

Lunch break couldn’t come soon enough. Kimishita counted the minutes on the clock, counting down until the bell finally rang and he jumped from his chair, almost forgetting his lunch box before making his way over to Mizuki’s classroom, eager to reach him before someone else could occupy him. He should probably feel nervous, he thought. But all he felt was a weight off his shoulders, the light, elevating knowledge that after all this suffering, all these struggles and heartbreaks, he would finally be free.

Mizuki was still at his desk when Kimishita entered, waiting at the door for a moment out of politeness more than hesitation. Brown eyes glanced up from an evidently storebought lunch, meeting his own, and it was all the invitation Kimishita needed to step into the classroom, crossing the distance with a few long, decisive steps.

“Captain,” he said, bowing his head slightly but not breaking eye contact as he spoke. “Can we eat lunch together again today?”

Mizuki’s eyes went wide, then he nodded, grabbing his lunch and standing up from his chair without hesitation. “Okay,” he said. “Are we going somewhere quiet again today?”

Kimishita nodded and hurried to keep up with his steps as the captain made for the door at an astounding speed. “Yes, please.”

With a thumbs-up Mizuki returned the nod, smiling and steering towards the quiet spot next to the soccer pitch where they had kissed for the first time, a moment that had only happened a few weeks ago and yet seemed so far in the past that it felt more like a few years. They sat down under the same tree, huddled together among the snow just like back then, but unlike that time it was less freezing now, and all around them the snow was patchy, watery and melting. Winter wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot. But right now, just for the moment, it almost felt a little like spring.

Mizuki opened his lunch and tried to evenly split his chopsticks, focusing stupidly hard and failing in the end anyway. Kimishita watched him with amusement and an oddly remote feeling he didn’t yet understand.  _My boyfriend,_  he tried to tell himself.  _This guy... is my boyfriend._

The thought felt absurd. Sure enough, Mizuki was still attractive. Cute and handsome and serious and likable and everything else that had drawn Kimishita to him in the first place, but he simply couldn’t feel the spark anymore. There were no butterflies, no sudden shots of adoration darting through his heart. Mizuki was a great person to be around, that part would never change. But he simply didn’t feel like a boyfriend anymore.

“Captain,” he said before Mizuki could start a conversation about anything else, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Mizuki tilted his head to the side, gazing at him with clueless curiosity.

Kimishita took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stared him directly in the eyes, the same dark eyes he had once been so drawn to that he couldn’t find the courage to look at them directly.

“I’ve been thinking... let’s end this.”

He had said it.

After all those weeks of hesitating, of debating with himself and trying to persuade, then dissuade himself, after all those struggles, it was finally, finally over.

Exhaling with relief, he leaned back against the tree behind them, his gaze still not leaving Mizuki’s eyes. The captain’s expression had changed from curiosity to confusion, then to incomprehension. His eyebrows furrowed together, forming a crease on his forehead as he completely forgot to tilt his head.

“End this?” he asked slowly, repeating Kimishita’s words. “What... are you talking about?”

“Our... Our relationship.” Kimishita squirmed a little as he said the word. He had never said it before, he realized, not this directly and definitely not to Mizuki’s face. Wasn’t it ironic that the only time he used this word to refer to him and Mizuki was now that it was over? “Let’s break up, Captain.”

Mizuki’s eyes went round with dawning comprehension. Then he frowned again, and this time there was a definite shadow of guilt in his confused expression. “Why?” he asked, looking startled and helpless and not at all like the upperclassman Kimishita had looked up to all this time. He was just Mizuki right now, a clueless soccer idiot who just happened to have been born something over two years before Kimishita.

Mizuki wasn’t some shining star up somewhere in the sky, he thought. Mizuki was a perfectly human being.

But somehow part of him had never truly realized that until now. No matter how stupid or embarrassing or cute he was, part of Kimishita had always put him on a pedestal, at least as a soccer player, and probably also as a person.

_Maybe that’s why things would never have worked out between us, huh._

Kimishita closed his eyes, melancholy but somehow strangely at peace. It all seemed so logical now, so natural from this distance. It was like he was floating above the past weeks twelve thousand feet in the air, able to see and comprehend every action, every situation he would never have understood from the inside, unable to look around and see the full picture. Everything looked so small from up here. But it all made sense. And honestly, at this point his only regret was ever confessing to Mizuki in the first place.

“A lot of reasons,” he said to Mizuki, opening one eye. “But most of all, I’ve come to understand something.”

Mizuki’s frown deepened into something truly concerned. “Did... I do something wrong?”

“What?” Kimishita straightened up, opening both eyes again. “No–”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, gripping him firmly, strong and warm and tanned even in the middle of winter. “If I did, tell me,” he said. “I can fix it. No need to break up.”

Kimishita sighed and clicked his tongue, torn between annoyance and genuine sympathy. From a certain angle he understood Mizuki’s worries. The poor guy had been trying so hard to be a good boyfriend to him, even if he didn’t even understand how Kimishita felt in the first place. No wonder he thought he had messed up somehow.

But still, he couldn’t be any more off the mark.

“You did nothing wrong!” Kimishita said a little more aggressively than he meant to, and Mizuki pulled back his hand in surprise. “Sorry... I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just...”

He paused, hesitating. Just... what? He hadn’t thought this far. In retrospect it was definitely stupid, but part of him had continued to hope that Mizuki wouldn’t ask him about his reasons for ending their relationship at all.

He did know the reason, of course.

But he had no idea if he was ready to speak it out yet.

“I...” The relaxed, peaceful feeling was rapidly leaving his body, and he felt his face heating up, his eyes leaving Mizuki’s face and trailing off into nowhere. “I don’t need this relationship anymore. I’ve moved on. So you don’t need to trouble yourself with me any longer.”

He just hoped that was enough to satisfy Mizuki’s conscience.

Mizuki hesitated, his hand hovering barely an inch above Kimishita’s shoulder again, not quite daring to touch it yet. “I’m not troubling myself,” he said at last. “Don’t worry, Kimishita. You’re not a bother.”

This idiot–

“That’s not it!” Kimishita burst out, spinning around to face him again. “I’m not worried about bothering you! I’m saying I don’t need this relationship anymore because...”  _Because I’ve fallen for someone else._  He didn’t want to say that.

“Because my feelings have changed! It can happen, Captain!”

“...oh.”

Mizuki’s eyes went round, the look of concern finally leaving his face, and Kimishita relaxed. He had swallowed it. Hopefully, at least. No need to delve any deeper into his personal business.

“Why?”

So much for hoping.

Kimishita clicked his tongue, his face catching fire once more. “Wh– What are you talking about? There doesn’t have to be a–”

“Why did your feelings change? Did something happen?”

He could lie his way out of it. Say something vague again and hope Mizuki would be satisfied with the answer. Which he probably wouldn’t be. No, definitely not. He hadn’t been satisfied with the answers up till now. There was no way he would just give in now.

So, might as well tell him as much as he could tell without dying from shame.

“A lot of things.” He didn’t dare look him in the eye anymore. “There’s... someone else I like now. So it’s fine.” He swallowed, turning back around to gaze at Mizuki’s lunch, forgotten in his lap. “Thanks for everything up to now, Captain. I can continue on my own.”

“I see.”

That was all Mizuki said, but somehow it was enough. There was kindness in his voice, understanding, and as suddenly as he had tensed up, Kimishita relaxed. The message had reached him, he realized. He was fine with it.

Setting aside his lunch box, Mizuki shifted where he sat, and before Kimishita could process what was happening a pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight, ribcage-crushing hug.

“Be happy, Kimishita,” Mizuki said as he patted his back with brotherly force. “Good luck.”

Returning the hug lightly, Kimishita smiled.

“Thank you.”

\---

He was free.

Kimishita closed his eyes, sinking back into his chair with a sigh of relief. Free, he repeated again in his mind, barely able to believe it himself. He didn’t have to worry about Mizuki anymore. After everything that had happened, he had finally lifted this weight off his shoulders for good.

And it had been so easy too, he thought. Maybe that had been the good part about knowing Mizuki didn’t return his feelings; he hadn’t needed to worry about hurting him, and it had allowed him to be as straightforward as he needed to get through to him. And he didn’t have to worry about facing him again now. They were still friends, and they could continue to be. Today had already proven that. After their breakup they had still eaten their lunch together, talking the break away more casually than Kimishita had ever been able to talk to Mizuki before.

Well... that part had been the easier one anyway.

Opening his eyes, Kimishita returned back to reality, his body tensing up uncomfortably as he tried, for the millionth time, to go through his plan for whatever he was supposed to do next. Test the waters, he had told himself. That was vague, he knew. But at the core, it was still as far as he could plan from here.

His plan, if he could even call it that, was to tell Kiichi about the breakup later. From there the conversation could go anywhere. Maybe Kiichi’s reaction would tell him something about his chances already. Maybe it wouldn’t. No, it probably wouldn’t, he thought, even if some part of him couldn’t help wishing anyway. But maybe he would ask about the reason for the breakup, and Kimishita could drop a hint. Or maybe the conversation would lead to the person Kiichi liked, and he might decide to do something about it or at least reveal who it was. Kimishita might offer to help him deal with it all, or maybe...

Maybe he would tell him to move on too. Maybe, just maybe, if things went well enough... he could actually imagine himself confessing his feelings.

His entire body went cold at the thought. His hands started shaking. No way. Impossible. Even if he could imagine it, that was as far as he went. Everything else was impossible right now. The sole thought was terrifying, so much more terrifying than confessing to Mizuki had ever been. He had so much more to lose now.

And it wasn’t like he could imagine Kiichi’s answer to be anything other than a rejection.

_It’s okay,_  he told himself as he took a deep breath, shaking off his worries and opening his textbook as class resumed again.  _It’s not much. Just testing the waters and seeing how he reacts._

It should be so easy. So much easier than the breakup he had already put behind himself. What could possibly go wrong? He couldn’t think of anything more extreme than Kiichi not responding to his hints.

So why couldn’t he calm down already?

\---

The day passed so slowly, so incredibly slowly that Kimishita often wondered if time had come to a stop entirely, leaving him hanging, eternally unable to proceed when he was so desperate to get everything over with. Classes took forever. Practice took even longer, and nothing noteworthy happened. The next captain and vice-captain still weren’t announced. No one knew why it was taking so long. Maybe Nakazawa had decided that Mizuki and Usui’s successors weren’t ready yet and kept the third-years around for a little longer. Or maybe he still hadn’t decided.

Kimishita was glad, honestly. Right now of all times he really wouldn’t have been able to handle all the chaos and possible attention that came with that announcement; he was already stressed as things were, and he definitely wouldn’t have been able to give a good impression if it had come down to it. And he was distracted, too distracted. It was a miracle he didn’t make any major mistakes during soccer.

And then practice was over, at long last and too soon, Kimishita couldn’t decide which one. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready. All his plans suddenly seemed flimsy and hopeless to him, destined to end in some unknown disaster he didn’t have the power to picture.

No, that wasn’t what was scaring him, he realized. What was truly scaring him about anything that could come from this conversation was that he actually had hopes for it.

It wasn’t like he expected to tell Kiichi how he felt or start dating him today. He wouldn’t think that far. But some progress, just a little... he wanted at least that much. No, he expected that much. Even if it was just throwing a hint at Kiichi, even if it was just a hint of knowledge about the chances he stood, he didn’t want this conversation to be entirely in vain.

Kimishita tried to act casual. Getting dressed at his usual speed, he tried not to turn around and peer in Kiichi’s direction, even if he couldn’t help listening intently anyway. But he was lucky today. Kiichi was in no hurry, and he didn’t leave before him. He didn’t seem to want to leave with Satou either. Kimishita steeled himself, gathering his belongings and leaving the club room to wait at the school gate under the pretense of scrolling through his phone.

He just hoped that everything would go as planned and he could really catch Kiichi alone this time.

For several slow, agonizing minutes, Kiichi didn’t come. Kimishita restrained himself from glancing over his shoulder.  _You better hurry up, idiot,_  he thought.  _I’m running out of things to pretend to read on my phone._

Then a set of footsteps approached, and without warning a hand patted against his back as a shadow fell over him, blocking out the sun.

“Hey,” Kiichi said with a sparkle in his eyes. “You’re still here?”

Kimishita glanced up and pocketed his phone. “Yeah,” he said. “Had something to do.”  _Not really a lie,_  he thought. “Problem?”

Kiichi shook his head. “Nope.”

“Good then.”

“Yup.” Kiichi crossed his arms. “You done with the something?”

Kimishita could guess what he was aiming at with ease. “I guess,” he said, unable to stop himself from cracking a smirk. “The rest can wait till later.”

“Good.” A glimpse of excitement sparked up in Kiichi’s usual stubborn pout. “Let’s walk together.”

Kimishita gave a nod, and side by side they started off into the street, both waiting for the other to break the silence. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Kiichi was waiting for Kimishita to break the silence. What Kimishita was doing was silently try to psyche himself up while hoping that Kiichi wouldn’t start speaking about something else first.

_He’s right here. Just get it over with._

Taking a deep breath, he stopped walking and turned to fully face Kiichi as he spoke.

“Wait,” he said, observing him closely, that surprised face, the wide, curious eyes whose expression would so soon change to something he couldn’t predict. “Now that we’re alone... there’s something I need to tell you.”

Kiichi’s eyes went round. Something shone on his face, an emotion so bright and piercing that Kimishita didn’t know what to call it except hope, for what, he didn’t understand. What was he hoping for? No, what was there to hope for in the first place?

_Calm down,_  he told himself.  _He can’t be hoping for this. It’s impossible. It would simply be too good to be true._

And yet he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the hope that rose up in his own chest in response, the heat that flushed over his cheeks, undoubtedly making his expression a mirror image of Kiichi’s. He couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach, the excited, anxious, increasingly rapid pounding of his heart.

No good. If he carried on like this, he would get swept away. He couldn’t hope too much. And he especially couldn’t let that hope display so openly on his face.

“I...” Lowering his head, he stared at the ground, welcoming the cold wind blowing his bangs into his face. “I ended things with Captain.”

The world fell silent. Somewhere in the distance a car rushed by and disappeared.

A long, slow moment passed. Then Kimishita hesitantly lifted his head to catch a glimpse of Kiichi’s face.

Bright eyes met his own. And not just the usual bright. Kiichi’s eyes were shining, glowing from the inside, radiating a light whose source Kimishita couldn’t see or locate. His entire face was alight with surprise and wonder. His mouth stood slightly open, slightly parted lips uttering a question long before he managed to speak it out loud.

“What...?”

“You heard me.” The spark of hope in Kimishita’s heart grew stronger, and he turned away from the wondrous sight once more. “I broke up with him. He and I are history!”

“I... but...” Kiichi still hadn’t found his speech again. “Why?”

_Because of you._

“That’s–” He was blushing even redder now, giving more and more of his feelings away, and he hated it. He hated it so much. “A lot of reasons,” he grumbled awkwardly. “I just realized we made bad match, that’s all.”

Kiichi didn’t answer for a very, very, very long time. Kimishita didn’t have the strength to look at him again. The silence drew on.

“Oh,” Kiichi said at last, sounding baffled and hopeful but somehow also a little gloomier than before, even though Kimishita didn’t understand why. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

_Say something else,_  the bold part of Kimishita whispered.  _Test the waters. What are you waiting for?_

He swallowed. His entire body tensed. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground.

“You...” His voice came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat, to no avail. “You know what that means, right?” He took a deep breath. “You... don’t have to be my replacement goldfish anymore.”

Kiichi didn’t answer at once except for the hitch in his breath.

“Your replacement goldfish, huh?”

His tone had changed. His very voice had changed. The light in his expression was completely gone, replaced by something cold and unapproachable appearing out of nowhere.

Kimishita glanced up, but he couldn’t see his face. Kiichi had lowered his head, letting his bangs cover his eyes, turning away to obscure as much of his expression as he could. But his body was tense, his shoulders pulled up and his jaw set as if he was in almost unbearable pain.

“Okay,” he said. “I get it. Then I’m gonna stop.”

Kimishita stared at him in incomprehension. “Wha–”

“Nothing.” Kiichi turned on the spot and started off in the direction they had come from. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Kiichi, wait!”

But Kiichi didn’t wait. He only started running and disappeared behind the next corner.

Kimishita stared after him in disbelief, unable to piece together what had just happened.

Had he done something wrong?

\---

_You don’t have to be my replacement goldfish anymore._

Ooshiba ran faster, caring little about his surroundings. His sides were in pain, his legs almost cramping, his entire body protesting, but he didn’t care. All he cared about were Kimishita’s words, replaying over and over and over in his mind.

_Replacement goldfish._  So that was all he had been. How stupid of him, thinking that this might not be everything, hoping that maybe Kimishita’s feelings had changed and he liked him too now, just a little. After all that rejection and hopeless pining he had managed to get his hopes up. He had thought that all of Kimishita’s behavior actually meant something.

He had thought that maybe Kimishita was actually getting close to him for himself.

But he had been so wrong.

_Replacement goldfish._  He clenched his fists. Kimishita had used him. He had used their friendship to get all the affection he craved from Mizuki. And now that he didn’t have that craving anymore, he didn’t need Ooshiba either.

He should feel angry. Furious. He knew he should. It would be his right to be mad. It would be his right to refuse to even look at Kimishita again. But somehow he couldn’t be angry. Somehow he only felt stupid for believing there might ever have been more beneath the surface.

But there had been nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He had only ever been a goddamn  _replacement goldfish_. A stupid, stupid goldfish.

Stumbling to a halt at the door of his house, he searched through his pockets, pulling out his key and opening the door with shaking fingers, taking three tries. He kicked off his shoes without caring where they landed, flung off his coat and bag, ran up the stairs, stumbled up to his room, opened the door, and burst into tears on the doorstep.

“Shit...”


	47. Awkward

Kimishita half expected Kiichi to start avoiding him again after this.

In fact, part of him almost hoped he would. Not because he didn’t want to face Kiichi himself. He wasn’t ashamed, not yet. He was only confused, so confused, and he didn’t know what to do.

If Kiichi started avoiding him, he thought, he would have an excuse to confront him. It would be obvious that something was indeed wrong, and Kimishita would have every right to run after him and yell at him until he either became reasonable or explained himself. Being ignored would hurt, of course. But at least he would know how to approach this by now.

But Kiichi didn’t ignore him. He didn’t even avoid him, not the slightest bit. Kiichi was just...  _normal_. He still talked to him. He still played soccer with him. He didn’t run away when he saw him. On the outside everything between them looked perfectly fine.

And yet Kimishita couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He didn’t know why he felt that way. Objectively speaking, there was nothing strange about Kiichi’s behavior, at least from the team’s perspective. So maybe he was a little quieter than before, a little calmer, less irritable. He rarely yelled at Kimishita anymore, and his temper tantrums were fewer and further between. But that didn’t have to mean anything bad. It could just be a sign of growth, or maybe he was simply keeping it together in the hopes that it could raise his chances of becoming captain.

And yet... there was  _something_. Somewhere, between the lines, Kiichi seemed more distant. He didn’t approach Kimishita on his own anymore unless he needed to. He didn’t seek him out. When they spoke he always kept their conversation to the bare minimum before turning to someone else or leaving. And most of all, he didn’t touch him anymore. It wasn’t just that he stopped hugging him entirely and never casually placed a hand on his back or shoulder anymore. He seemed to completely avoid every touch, instinctively pulling back as soon as Kimishita came just an inch too close.

It almost hurt more than being ignored, honestly.

Kimishita tried to tell himself it was only his imagination. He tried to tell himself he was reading too much into it, and Kiichi was acting perfectly normal while his own standards had changed, and he was simply expecting more than Kiichi could constantly give. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Kiichi was acting  _different_. And that sudden change in behavior had come directly after the conversation that he had left without warning.

It didn’t make sense. Something was off. Something was so obviously wrong, and it had something to do with their conversation. Something he had said had rubbed Kiichi the wrong way somehow, but for the life of him Kimishita couldn’t understand how or why.

Was he unhappy about being called a replacement goldfish? Was that it? He had still looked fine before this sentence, even if he had seemed surprised. But then Kimishita had uttered those words, and suddenly he had shut down completely.

He wished he could at least have made out the expression on Kiichi’s face. Normally he could always tell what Kiichi was feeling just from observing his face, reading all of his emotions in his behavior like an open book. But this time Kiichi’s expression hadn’t given anything away. It had been dark, unreadable, cold in a way Kimishita couldn’t explain. As if Kimishita’s very words had pushed him away, ending their friendship and alienating them in less than the span of a second.

Had he been disappointed? But... about what?

Kimishita shook his head. He knew Kiichi’s usual disappointed face, and this hadn’t been it. This expression had been something else, something distant and strangely closed, as if someone had closed the shutters in front of his feelings and locked them inside. It was an expression he had never seen on Kiichi before... something that didn’t fit him at all.

And right now, he thought, even though they were interacting almost normally, that feeling of closed shutters still wasn’t gone.

Kimishita felt locked out. He wanted to knock, but he didn’t know how. He wanted to open them, but they only seemed to open from the inside, and he didn’t have a key or anything else to get inside with. Should he shout? Force them open with sheer willpower?

Should he wait?

Nothing seemed right. Trying to get through to Kiichi felt too forceful. Waiting felt too passive. And... he didn’t have the strength of will for either anymore. He just wanted to understand this somehow and fix it. He just really, really, really wanted Kiichi back.

What was wrong with him? Why did he miss him? Kiichi was right there. He was talking to him normally. He wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon.

And yet it felt like Kiichi had drifted from his hands, and he barely understood the reason why.

\---

Ooshiba still felt stupid, but this time he wouldn’t show it.

This time there was no point in trying to avoid Kimishita. This time Kimishita hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t been inconsiderate, and he hadn’t played with his feelings on purpose. Most likely he didn’t even have the faintest idea of what Ooshiba was feeling. He was that kind of person. Feelings weren’t his thing, and romance was something he had always gone out of his way to avoid as much as he could.

This time he wasn’t angry at Kimishita. This time he had no reason to sulk. His heart felt broken once more, but this time he had no one but himself to blame.

Seriously, what had he been thinking? He felt like an idiot, getting his hopes up like that. Kimishita’s behavior had made it clear that his heart belonged to Mizuki. He had still seemed hopelessly in love up until a handful of days ago. What had happened in that time, what had made him decide to break up, he didn’t know for sure. But that time had definitely not been enough for him to suddenly develop feelings for Ooshiba. Why should he? He still thought his heart belonged to someone else anyway, and by now Ooshiba couldn’t reveal his lie without humiliating himself completely. He had always made him think their actions were replacements on both sides. If he admitted the truth now, Kimishita would kill him for taking advantage like that.

So basically, he thought, Kimishita would never even consider him if he didn’t admit to lying. But if he did, Kimishita would hate him forever.

He had screwed up. He had tried to get close to Kimishita, and for some time he had succeeded. But thanks to that attempt he had lost all his chances of ever doing all these things with him for real.

Usui, he thought, would probably tell him he had been too greedy.

He shouldn’t have told this lie, Usui would tell him. He should have been there like a normal friend and never pulled this whole replacement gambit in the first place, and with time and patience Kimishita might have realized who he was happier with. He should simply have waited. None of all these tricks that only served to satisfy his own desire to be close to Kimishita, touch him, hug him, kiss him.

And he would be right. He would be so right.

Ooshiba had thought he had listened to Usui’s advice. He had thought he had understood it, but in reality he hadn’t understood a thing. He had never been patient. He had only pretended to be, tricking Kimishita into something he would never have wanted if he had known what it truly meant just to satisfy his own cravings, and now he was earning the results of that lie. He had been a complete self-centered asshole, and now karma was simply getting back at him for that.

So maybe Ooshiba would protest if Usui told him all that. He would say he had done it for Kimishita too. Kimishita had looked like he needed it, and he had welcomed the affection so gladly it had almost felt real. But even then, Usui would tell him, he should have been more honest. Should have told him how he felt from the beginning, or at least pretended he was doing all this out of nothing but friendship and compassion.

Except Kimishita would never have accepted his affection if he had told him that, Ooshiba would reply.

And that, Usui would say, was exactly the problem.

No matter how he twisted and turned it, he had screwed things up. Big time. And no matter what he did now, Kimishita was out of his reach.

It wasn’t Kimishita who had demoted him to the role of the  _replacement goldfish_.

From the very beginning it had been himself.

And that was why he wouldn’t sulk. He wouldn’t avoid Kimishita and give him the cold shoulder. Kimishita wasn’t the one who had lied and misled him. It felt awful to continue being friends after this, but Ooshiba would bear it. Kimishita still liked him as a friend. And Ooshiba would miss him if the parted ways too, more than he could bear. But most of all a true hero should never hurt someone else for a mistake that was only their own.

And what kind of hero would he be if he couldn’t even handle that much pain?

\---

Kiichi was slipping from his hands.

Kimishita put down his phone, sighing and trying to focus on his homework again. He had wanted to text him, he really had. But as soon as he had opened their chat window and started to type, all words and courage had suddenly failed him.

He didn’t know what was happening anymore. Kiichi was right there, and yet he was disappearing. Each one of their exchanges felt too short, too shallow, the awkward silences between more awkward bits of conversation growing longer and more frequent. At this point it almost felt like they were trying to talk about the stupidest things simply to avoid this silence, but in the end it always came back, stronger and more persistent each time.

What was happening? It didn’t make sense. Kiichi was getting less and less talkative. He rarely smiled anymore. He barely responded to banter, and Kimishita felt less and less inclined to start any. It was like he was only staying friends with Kimishita out of politeness when in reality he had grown tired of his presence a long time ago.

Wait. Wasn’t this the exact same thing Kiichi had accused him off just the other day?

Kimishita almost snorted.  _Ironic_. And just as nonsensical as Kiichi’s fears back then. How should the same idiot who had almost broken down crying because he thought Kimishita hated him, the same idiot who had accused him of hating him because he always pulled back suddenly be tired of him a mere handful of days after making up? Logically thinking, that was absurd. It had to be some other reason, no matter what the overthinking part of his brain was trying to tell him.

But then again, maybe  _tired_  wasn’t the right description for how Kiichi acted either.  _Awkward_  would describe it better. Like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly he wasn’t comfortable around Kimishita anymore.

He honestly couldn’t say which thought was more painful.

Things had never been like this between them before. Yes, they had fought a lot and yes, there had been many periods of time where they had refused to talk to each other at all. For almost as long as he had known Kiichi they had constantly been flip-flopping back and forth between yelling insults and shouting aggressive encouragements, between throwing punches and functioning like clockwork, between refusing to talk each other and supporting each other through hell and back. It had always been one or the other, or both at the same time, but never anything in between. Hot and cold. A pair that couldn’t live with each other, but would wither and die without each other. But no matter what stage they were in, they had always trusted each other unconditionally.

Now he could see it, Kimishita thought. Ever since middle school people who knew them well had been comparing them to an old married couple, and what he had brushed off as teasing back then made a lot of sense now. It hadn’t been about them being in love. It had been about how comfortable they were around each other, easily able to say exactly what they were thinking and still know the other would be there for them when things got serious.

So... what was this feeling? Why was there suddenly a wall between them, filled with unspoken things Kimishita couldn’t understand? Why was he suddenly afraid to confront Kiichi and ask him what was wrong? Why was he suddenly afraid of telling him the truth?

Did Kiichi not trust him anymore? Or did he not trust Kiichi?

He couldn’t say. But whatever it was, he hated it. This distance. This unexplained awkwardness. He wanted it to stop and didn’t know how. Should he confront Kiichi after all? Should he just try to reach out? But what in the world should he say?

_I think I’ve noticed you acting a little more distant lately and I don’t like it. If I’m not just imagining this, what’s wrong and how can we go back to normal?_

...Yeah, no, probably not.

Kimishita groaned, pushed aside his homework, and buried his face in his arms. This was going nowhere. His mind was running in circles, and this time these circles were smaller than ever.

He didn’t even care about being in love with Kiichi anymore. He didn’t want to confess to him, let alone date him. All of that didn’t matter. He simply wanted his friend Kiichi back. Even if it came at the cost of yelling at each other and throwing punches.

That, at least, he would know how to deal with.

\---

Another day began, and still nothing had changed.

Kimishita hadn’t managed to text Kiichi yesterday. Not even about something completely unrelated. Over and over he had picked up his phone, opened their chat, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, and over and over again he had sighed and closed it and put it back down. Nothing he could think of felt right. And aside from making requests, Kimishita had never been that great at starting conversations in the first place.

Well, maybe he’d try to talk to him today. Just about whatever came into his head. See how he reacted, how he responded. Maybe it would turn out he had indeed only been imagining things and made himself awkward. Or maybe he might find some hint, some sort of explanation to make sense of Kiichi’s behavior.

_Reach out more._

That was what he had promised himself. It was what he had promised Kiichi, and right now seemed like the perfect time to make good on his words. Old habits died hard, and he still had trouble with it, but was that an excuse? He was trying to change his ways. And changing one’s ways never came without a lot of hard work and practice.

It wasn’t like he had to address the problem directly, he told himself. He could simply ask him about something commonplace, something to do with soccer perhaps, the graduation of the third-years and the ongoing lack of a captain announcement, or maybe even that sequel of his beloved animated tropical fish movie. If he brought up something Kiichi cared about, it was bound to get him talking a little, wasn’t it?

Whatever it was, it was worth a try.

He would simply try to snatch Kiichi at the earliest possible opportunity.

\---

Had Kimishita noticed that something was wrong?

Ooshiba wasn’t sure, but the question wouldn’t let him go. It had been a suspicion at first, a faint assumption that might or might not be true, but over time it had grown bigger and bigger until it haunted him with every step, every time they saw each other, every time they talked, every time they parted ways without any meaningful interaction. He didn’t know if it was true. He didn’t even know if he wanted it to be true. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake it off anymore.

Maybe he was wrong about all this. Maybe Kimishita’s personality had rubbed off on him, and he had started overthinking. Maybe that was just what love did to people, make them overthink and stress over every stupid little things until their heads exploded. But whatever it was, his gut feeling told him that Kimishita had definitely been acting weird.

It wasn’t that he was being cold towards him or anything. Kimishita wasn’t avoiding him either. If anything he seemed to be acting almost normal, calmer than before and less prone to yelling but otherwise perfectly normal. And yet his gut was telling him that something was  _wrong_. Something was off between him and Kimishita, and he couldn’t really put his finger on it.

Something just seemed to be  _lacking_. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel the spot where it was missing so clearly it became almost tangible. It felt a little like he couldn’t reach Kimishita anymore, and even if he tried he would only be met with an excuse and quiet but harsh rejection.

Maybe that was it, he thought. Maybe Kimishita seemed distant. He still talked to Ooshiba, but their conversations held no meaning, grazing shallowly on the surface as if they were nothing more than acquaintances. He was quieter than before, less talkative, and way too often silence would fall between them, heavy and awkward and growing harder and harder to shake off with every passing second.

They didn’t feel close anymore. They didn’t look at each other when they talked. They made no effort to spend time with each other. They never touched except on accident, and when they did, Kimishita would recoil and withdraw like a cat that had touched water. It was like all their bonds, all their history suddenly meant nothing, and Ooshiba couldn’t explain what had happened.

There was only one thing he knew. He knew that all of this, whatever it was, had started after their conversation about the breakup.

Ooshiba stared at the board, wondering what the teacher was saying. He should probably try to pay attention, part of him thought. Otherwise Kimishita would make a fuss about it later. Well... the old Kimishita would have. The current one... he wasn’t so sure.

Why had he changed out of nowhere?

Ooshiba didn’t understand. He wasn’t smart enough to make sense of this whole thing. Was Kimishita acting weird because he had noticed Ooshiba acting weird? He just hoped that was it. That way he could at least do something about this whole thing, even if he had no idea what it was. Should he just go back to normal? Could he even do that?

_What if Kimishita had realized that he liked him, and that was why he was acting so strange?_

Ooshiba tried to shake the thought. Kimishita was dense. Every single one of his hints, of his feelings had flown directly over his head, no matter how obvious he made them. There was no way he’d have understood him this time.

...Or was there?

But Kimishita was smart, too. And even if he hadn’t understood it before, he might have pieced everything together by now. Ooshiba’s reaction that day might have been the last straw, the last puzzle piece he had still needed. Smart people were like that. He didn’t know how their brains worked, but it wasn’t impossible.

And if he had figured him out... if that was truly the reason...

It would be over for him. Once and for all. Not only had he never stood the slightest hint of a chance, he would also have blown every hope of staying friends with Kimishita like they had before.

But that wasn’t the reason, right?

_...Right?_

\---

Kimishita tried to act casual about all this, but truth be told, he felt like a strung wire. Over and over he had tried to come up with a way to approach Kiichi normally, a topic to strike up a conversation, and still he had no idea what to do or say. Before all of this he would never have worried about these stupid details. Before things between them had turned into an awkward mess he would simply have marched over to him, told him whatever he wanted to say, and gone back to minding his own business.

But of course that had been back when everything was still  _normal_. Not all kinds of screwed up and awkward in ways he didn’t understand.

Well, he thought, it was only a conversation. They were friends. And Kiichi was thankfully stupid enough to not suspect his real feelings. It was going to be okay.

“Hey, idiot.”

Kiichi glanced up from where he still sat behind his desk even though lunch break had started minutes ago, apparently too spaced out to notice. Kimishita clicked his tongue, continuing with the angry attitude more out of a desire for safety than any actual annoyance. “Did your last brain cell get tired of you, or why are you sitting there staring at nothing?”

Kimishita fully expected Kiichi to at least get a little irritated, but his expression barely changed. “Nope,” he said quietly. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking?” Kimishita snorted even though he didn’t feel like it. “Should I prepare Aspirin for the headache later?”

“I’m not gonna get a headache. I can think too, ya know.”

It almost sounded like a normal counter. Almost. But Kimishita wasn’t fooled by this tone. It lacked the spark, the usual playfulness that took the edge off their banter. Instead Kiichi sounded... melancholy, somehow. Almost a little hurt.

“What’s with you?” Kimishita grumbled, unsure what to do or how to handle this situation. “Can’t take a joke anymore or what?”

“Sure can.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

Silence.

The seconds ticked on. The classroom was deserted except for Kiichi in his seat, Kimishita standing in front of him, and Satou who quietly excused himself and disappeared to the cafeteria.

_Say something._  Kimishita knew he should. Something, anything. Anything to break this awkward silence. But the harder he thought about possible things to say, the less he could think of. Everything sounded stupid and somehow inappropriate in his head.

Oh right. Soccer. If all else failed, he could always mention soccer.

“You...” His voice came out a little hoarse, and he coughed. “You think they’ll announce the next captain today?”

Kiichi shrugged.

“It’s about time,” Kimishita rambled on like an idiot, simply to fill the silence. “They can’t wait much longer, what are they hesitating for?”

Kiichi shrugged again, then he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and half-heartedly stretching. “Dunno,” he said. “As long as the next captain’s me, I don’t really care.”

The words sounded like him. But his tone sounded more like he had only said them for that very reason.

“And...” Seriously, what was Kimishita doing? He felt so stupid. “And the vice-captain...?”

Kiichi opened his eyes, but he didn’t look at Kimishita. Instead his gaze seemed to hover somewhere in the distance, studying the scribbles on the board without reading a single word.

“I don’t care.”

Kimishita’s breath got stuck in his throat. His ribcage constricted from the inside, as if someone had ripped out part of his chest and created a void that collapsed on itself. Kiichi didn’t care anymore. The very same Kiichi who had asked him to be his vice-captain, the same Kiichi who had thrown a fit over the sole suggestion that someone else might get the job... the same Kiichi who had resolved to accept no one else but him. This same Kiichi was suddenly acting like he had never said any of these things at all.

_What am I still doing here?_

Kimishita felt stupider and stupider by the second. He shouldn’t be staying. It was obvious that Kiichi didn’t want him here. However close they had been before, something he had said or done had definitely ruined it now.

And yet he was staying. For some stupid, irrational reason he himself didn’t quite understand, he was saying. He didn’t want to leave yet. He didn’t want to give up, just like that, without at least trying one more time.

Not that his brain had any idea what to make of this, what to say. The only indication he had was the feeling in his gut. His intuition, maybe, or his emotion, stubbornly telling him to go on and plunge blindly into the unknown.

“If something happened, then tell me.”

Kiichi blinked. His eyes focused back on Kimishita, and for a second he looked startled, caught like a deer in the headlights.

“What do you mean...?”

Kimishita’s face flushed, his brain rapidly catching up with his feelings. What was he doing? What was he saying? He should know better than this. He should know better than to simply speak out whatever crossed his mind and talk himself into a corner. Only Kiichi did that.

And yet, the irrational part of him urged, sometimes there was simply no way to solve a situation except for telling the truth.

“Don’t ‘What do you mean’ me!” he snapped, reflexively glaring at the window as he spoke. “The blindest idiot could tell you’ve been acting strange! If you have a problem with me then fucking grow up and tell me, dumbass!”

“There’s... no problem.”

Kiichi had turned away his head, staring blankly at his reflection in the window glass, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t do shit. It’s fine.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue, frustrated, impatient and irritated. “Then  _what?_ ”

“Nothing!” For a short moment Kiichi’s head spun around, his eyes meeting Kimishita in a glare, then he turned back away. “You said I could stop being your  _replacement goldfish_ ,” he said with a glint of disgust in his tone. “So I stopped. That’s all.”

“I–” What was happening, what was happening? What was Kimishita saying? “I never meant it that way, idiot!”

Just for one heartbeat, Kiichi’s expression wavered. Something flickered inside it. Doubt, perhaps. Questioning.

Then he shut down once more, and when he spoke again his voice was colder than before.

“So you wanna continue or what?” His lips curled up in the hint of a sharp, bitter smirk. “Lame. If we kept doing that shit as ourselves, that’d be fucking gross.”

Kimishita froze.

The world came to a grinding halt. Time stood still. Kiichi’s last sentence rang in his ears, his brain slowly catching up with the fact that what he had heard was real.

Then the pain hit.

Kimishita clenched his fists, betrayal boiling up in his veins. His mind was reeling. His chest hurt like someone had stabbed a blade right through it, cutting cleanly through the heart and leaving it stuck in his torso for him to slowly bleed out and die.

So none of this had meant anything. None of this had meant they were close, and none of this had meant that Kiichi actually wanted to be close to him for him. They had been each other’s  _replacement goldfish_. Nothing less and nothing more. Just like they had agreed from the very beginning.

But that didn’t make sense, part of his brain said. Kiichi had wanted to hug  _him_  too. He had been clingy with him and thrown fits over him not returning his attempts at getting closer. It hadn’t all been pretend. It hadn’t completely been a masquerade. Somewhere in there had been some honesty. Kiichi had no reason to cut things off so completely just because Kimishita didn’t need a replacement anymore... unless–

Unless... he found it gross because he knew. And understood.

_I’m such an idiot._

Suddenly Kiichi’s behavior made sense. The way he had suddenly left, the distance, the avoidant behavior. Kiichi had seen through him. And this was his way of rejection.

He didn’t know why he had ever expected anything else.

But Kimishita didn’t show any of that. All his emotions stayed safely bottled up inside as he forced on a fake smirk, acting like all of this was perfectly fine.

“Yeah,” he said in the same tone as Kiichi. “That would be disgusting.”

Then he turned and escaped from the classroom as fast as he could without looking suspicious.


	48. How

Kimishita had taught himself to stop crying years ago.

If he thought about it now, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had shed a tear. It must have been years ago. How many years, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that ever since elementary school he had always tried to keep himself from crying, stubbornly gritting his teeth to keep those shameful emotions, those signs of weakness, from spilling out of his eyes and humiliating him in front of everyone.

Ever since childhood he had always tried to be strong, aloof, mature. He had wanted to be an adult. And adults didn’t cry. He hadn’t wanted to be seen as a kid who didn’t know how to keep his emotions in check. But more than anything he hadn’t wanted his father to worry about any tears staining his face.

And so he had restrained himself. He had balled up his fists, clenching his teeth in silence until the burning in his eyes subsided and his lips stopped trembling and his voice stopped feeling like it was about to break. If anyone tried to talk to him, he had turned away and ignored them until he felt stable enough to reply. If all else failed, he had covered his eyes and fled from people to deal with his treacherous emotions alone. No one would suspect a thing. If he really did have to cry, he had learned to do it in silence, not even a hitch in his breath giving away the tears running down his face like a mark of his failure.

All that had been years ago, and by now Kimishita almost never cried. He felt like it sometimes, but that was all. No matter how strong his emotions, he could always keep himself in check. After that fateful lost match in middle school that had almost driven him and Kiichi apart, a match that had filled him with regret and frustration and a pain he had never known before, he hadn’t shedded a single tear. After their team had lost in the qualifiers of nationals last year he had been the only regular to not even get misty-eyed even as he took the burden of their loss and vowed to never fail, never disappoint his teammates like this ever again. After losing to Saku High in summer he had clenched his jaw and gone home without revealing a single emotion. And even the time Kiichi, his very first love, had turned out to have a one-sided crush on some girl he had only taken the news and kept moving.

It had been fine. There were other ways to get his feelings out of his system. Kimishita had channeled them into anger, into aggression, into exercising until he collapsed and lashing out at people who got too close to him at the wrong time. It hadn’t been ideal, he knew. It hadn’t always been fair to the others. But at least it hadn’t been a weakness. If nothing else, at the very least he hadn’t looked like a helpless child anymore.

And then... what exactly had gone wrong?

He had been fine like this. He had been okay, perfectly comfortable. He had struggled, but it had taught him to work out his troubles himself, without ever showing weakness and relying on someone else to help. It had made him strong, he had thought. Independent. But then...

Oh, right. Then Kiichi happened.

His method had worked for so long, and then Ooshiba Kiichi had walked into his life and turned everything around. For all this time he had dealt with everything alone, and then Kiichi had barged right in and offered his help out of nowhere, taking the burden of asking off Kimishita’s shoulders and sharing his troubles as if they were his own. Kiichi, who thought nothing of his stubbornness and pride. Kiichi, who embraced his emotions and taught Kimishita that there was no shame in his own.

_Stop acting like your feelings are stupid, stupid! They’re your feelings! You feel them! If you think about how Captain feels then care about how you feel too, you selfless asshole!_

Kiichi had shoved it in his face over and over again. It was okay to feel. It was okay to admit he felt something. There was no shame in it. And little by little, that message had sunk in, and before he knew it years of practice were beginning to crack and crumble in front of his eyes. How many times had he teared up because of Kiichi? How many times had he forgotten himself and thrown his emotions in the idiot’s face unfiltered, simply because it was the only thing that felt right? Little by little he had lowered his guard, and now he was struggling to put it up again.

Kimishita didn’t cry anymore. He hadn’t cried in years. And he wouldn’t do it now. No matter what had happened, that part wouldn’t change. He still had enough self-restraint left for that alone.

But only for that.

His lips were trembling. His eyes were burning. He blinked and blinked, but they just kept on watering, hot, traitorous drops of water gathering in his lashes and threatening to fall. The hand covering his eyes was his only shield between his feelings and the curious eyes of the outside world.

He didn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. But he was so, so close.

_My feelings._

There was no shame in it, part of him whispered. He felt these emotions. That meant they should matter to him. There was no reason to be ashamed of being human and vulnerable.

 _So what?_  the other part of him scoffed, bitter and spiteful and full of pain and disappointed rage.  _What good has having feelings ever done me? Has it made me happier? Stronger? Fuck this. What’s the fucking point of feelings if all they ever do is cause me pain?_

He should just stop having feelings. Stop falling in love. Stop getting his hopes up and getting them crushed for nothing. It was the only way to get better. The only way to stop getting his heart broken over and over and over again.

_What do you do when one of your tropical fish dies?_

This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake as back then. He wouldn’t get a new one. He wouldn’t try and cover up his old heartbreak with a new one. That was only a recipe for more and more disasters.

_I don’t need a fucking fish anymore. Goldfish, koi, I don’t care._

_It’s not like I could ever afford a pet in the first place._

\---

He had said it. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say it, but Ooshiba felt almost... relieved.

It had hurt to say these words, of course. It still hurt. The lie was burning into his chest, boiling in his blood, warring with the urge to take back everything and run after Kimishita and pull him into his arms and kiss him, not caring about what he thought or their friendship or anything but the moment and the boy in front of him, cranky and short-tempered and vulnerable and beautiful, so utterly beautiful no words managed to describe even the slightest part of it. He felt like a traitor denying all those feelings, claiming the opposite. Kimishita deserved to know, part of him thought. He deserved to know how loved he was, how flawless and amazing and beautiful he was in someone else’s eyes. How desirable. Kimishita didn’t think of himself as desirable, Ooshiba knew. He didn’t think of someone who could sweep others off their feet and steal their hearts so completely they could never forget about him ever again.

But Ooshiba wasn’t stupid. He knew all of that wasn’t possible. Even if he told Kimishita the truth, even if he held him in his arms and kissed him like he had never kissed anyone before, what would come from that? He would feel happy for a moment, and then everything would come crashing down. Kimishita would hate him. He would turn on his heel and never look at him again for the rest of his life.

No, the way Ooshiba had done it was the better option. Wipe all suspicions off the table. Once and for all. Pretend he had never been attracted to Kimishita and never would be, then continue their friendship normally. Without second-guessing everything. Without stupid questioning from one side or the other.

Staying friends would be painful now, he knew. But at least he wouldn’t have to watch how he acted. He wouldn’t have to worry about Kimishita figuring him out and turning his back on him. That would be over. And he would have all the time in the world to get over his one-sided feelings and move on.

_He didn’t want to move on._

He didn’t want to stop loving Kimishita. He didn’t want to turn away and start liking someone else, or whatever it was that would make these feelings fade away. No one would ever be better than Kimishita. No one would ever understand him the way he did. No one would share as much history, as much of a close bond with him as he did.

But Kimishita or Usui would probably tell him that was only the heartbreak talking. He was too in love to approach this logically, and that was why he felt like Kimishita was the one. He couldn’t know that just yet, they would say. And clinging to this one romance for all his life would only make him unhappy.

He didn’t want to move on. Every part of his heart and soul was telling him not to do it, that it was wrong and no one would ever deserve his love like Kimishita did. He wanted to keep loving him forever and ever and ever. But that wasn’t an option, he knew. Whether or not he wanted to, he had to move on.

That left only one question.

_How do I do that?_

\---

Kimishita's eyes were dry once more. His hands were no longer clenched into fists, his teeth no longer pressed together. On the outside he looked perfectly stable, harsh and aloof and radiating a cold, unapproachable aura but stable enough to make no one suspect how close he had been to an emotional breakdown earlier. Anyone who came by now would simply think he was in an irritable mood and leave him the hell alone.

The inside, however, was a whole different matter. Why he wasn’t on the verge of tears anymore Kimishita didn’t know, but he still felt like crying. The entire weight of his disappointment, his lost hopes and humiliation weighed down on his chest, crushing him underneath until his ribs were cracking and he couldn’t breathe. He felt stupid. So stupid. So impossibly, indescribably stupid.

Of course Kiichi would have figured him out. Kiichi wasn’t Mizuki. He wasn’t dense. He had figured out his deepest, darkest secrets before, opening all the locks and seals and reading him like an open book. Kiichi wasn’t Mizuki. Kiichi understood emotions, and he  _knew_  him. Truly knew him.

Still, couldn’t Kiichi have let him know a different way? Did he have to say it like that?  _Gross_.  _Gross_! Was that all he had to say? Even if he felt like it, even if he was repulsed by the thought of hugging and cuddling and kissing a Kimishita who was actually in love with him... wasn’t there another way to phrase it? Wasn’t there another way to let him know his feelings disgusted him?

Well, maybe he should see it as an incentive. A viable excuse that Kiichi wasn’t truly worth all these feelings, after all.

_Yeah, right._

Who was he kidding. Kiichi was worth it. He had proven that, over and over and over, breaking through all his defenses and pushing down all the walls Kimishita had put up around himself, waltzing right through them like they didn’t exist and making himself at home. Kiichi wasn’t just another crush like Mizuki had been. He wasn’t even what he had felt for him back in middle school. All of that had been nothing but infatuation. What he felt for Kiichi right now... it ran deeper. So much deeper. So deep that he didn’t have a word for it anymore.

_Is this what they call true love?_

He hated that term. It sounded sappy, ridiculous. Like the text on the back cover of those horribly overemotional YA novels or the summary of a soap opera, not like a genuine emotion. It sounded cheap, plastic. It didn’t fit. What he felt for Kiichi was neither cheap nor plastic. It was completely organic, something that had grown so naturally that for the longest time he hadn’t even noticed it was there.

Like Kiichi... completed him, perhaps. Gave him what he lacked, taught him what he needed to learn, and turned him into a whole different person. It couldn’t just be him. It had to be the two of them, or else there was no point to it all.

But of course it wasn’t meant to be.

It didn’t matter how much Kimishita loved Kiichi. It didn’t matter how important he was to him, how much he felt like he couldn’t live without him anymore. Kiichi didn’t return the feeling. He was only fine with Kimishita falling in love with guys as long as it wasn’t him. He wanted to be friends and was disgusted by the thought of anything else.

So his resolve stood. No matter how strongly he felt about Kiichi, no matter how irreplaceable he seemed, he couldn’t go on with these feelings. They would only complicate everything. He needed to move on.

Get over him. For real this time. Without any stupid stunts and falling right back to him at the first opportunity he got.

No more falling in love. No more needing replacements. No more needing Kiichi, either. He needed to learn how to stand on his own two feet without constantly crushing on someone he couldn’t have anyway.

That only left one question.

_How do I do that?_

\---

_Move on._

Kimishita sat slumped over his desk, glaring silently at his half-eaten lunch. Ooshiba shoveled his food down his throat so fast he almost choked on it, unable to taste a single bite of what he was eating anyway. Neither of them noticed the looks of concern resting on their faces. Neither of them paid any attention to their surroundings at all. One like the other sat in silence, their thoughts rapidly spinning down into the same spiral.

_Move on._

How should they do that? They saw each other every day. They played soccer together every day. And it wasn’t like they could stop now. They were teammates and friends. That part shouldn’t change. No matter what happened, they both still wanted to get as much of the other as they could without overstepping a line.

Stay friends? That seemed the only option. Pretend nothing had happened. Don’t touch each other anymore, but still get along, banter like they used to, maybe hang out sometimes. Well, maybe not hang out anymore. If they ended up alone together again... there was no knowing what might happen. If they got too close again and got their hopes up for nothing...

_Move on._

Not like that would happen. Not when it was so clear now that their feelings were one-sided, without the slightest chance of that ever changing. The only thing that would happen if they did hang out again was awkwardness, unsaid words and imaginary touches, and the loneliness and longing that would invariably follow. Seeing each other outside of school, away from the soccer pitch, would only make everything worse. Instead of moving on, it would only make them more attached to the one person they couldn’t have.

The more time they spent together... the harder it would be to move on.

What would hurt more? Parting ways or staying together? Would it be easier to pretend to be fine and hope these feelings would go away while basking in the other’s presence? Or make a hard cut and live with the pain until it healed?

Could they even still stay friends? They didn’t want to part. They didn’t want to put an end to their bond, this connection that had taken so many years to form, so many years of building up trust and understanding until they had become what they were now. But now they had been rejected so coldly, would things still be the same? Even if they kept trying to be friends, wouldn’t everything only get awkward?

Then again... wouldn’t it be weirder to suddenly cut things off now? Wouldn’t that only serve to make their feelings more obvious?

More obvious than they already were? That was stupid. They had already been pushed away. They had already embarrassed themselves. What else was there to lose anymore in the first place?

They wanted to stay together. Spend time together, talk together, laugh together, play soccer together. But that would only feel good when there was nothing to separate them, no secrets or lies or messy feelings to damage the feeling of trust and understanding and security that had always connected them. If they had to hold back, if they couldn’t relax and be completely themselves around each other the way they had always been, what would be the point?

_Move on._

They wanted to stay together, but... the way things were, was that truly possible?

Wouldn’t spending time with each other only make everything worse?

Wouldn’t it be easier to move on and shake off these feelings if they spent as little time together as they could?

Wouldn’t staying friends lead to nothing but worse heartbreak, intensifying their addiction to the other until not even going cold turkey could make them recover?

At this point in time, was continuing their friendship really worth it at all?

_Move on._

Things couldn’t continue this way.

Something had to change.

With a heavy heart, Kimishita and Ooshiba both set their jaws and balled up their fists as they both chose their heads over their hearts and came to the same decision.

They could always continue their friendship later.

For now, it was probably better to stay away from each other as much as they could.

\---

Usui was starting to detect a pattern here.

So it hadn’t been his imagination after all. The two idiot second-years had definitely been strange. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but it had been clear as day that things had become awkward between them, possibly more awkward than ever before. And it couldn’t have been a fight, he knew. After a fight these two were usually not talking to each other at all, and yet here they had been, interacting with each other  _almost_  normally.

Emphasis on  _almost_.

He had thought of it as an improvement. At least, he had told himself, they weren’t avoiding each other after whatever misunderstanding had gone down between them yet again – because a misunderstanding it had to be, of that he was certain. For a short time the thought of one of them confessing and being rejected had crossed his mind, but he had quickly dismissed the idea. These two were way too obviously in love to reject the other, and they were way too stupid and emotionally stinted to ask each other out in the first place. Besides, a rejected confession would probably have resulted in worse than this. Knowing these two, they wouldn’t have been able to look at each other for weeks.

Well, he had thought, it didn’t seem bad enough to step in just yet. Things between them had been awkward, but not impossible to fix. Sooner or later they should go back to normal, he had thought, just like they always had before. No matter how bad their fights had been before, in the end they had never managed to stay away from each other for more than a handful of days.

But after a handful of days had passed, the situation somehow seemed to have become worse.

Kimishita and Shiba had stopped talking to each other completely. Again. Two days ago they had suddenly stopped interacting with each other out of the blue, staying as far away from each other as they could, trying not to look at each other, only speaking when it was absolutely, vitally necessary. But for some strange reason they didn’t seem angry at each other; whenever they interacted it was still strangely civil, if so distant Usui almost didn’t recognize them anymore. It didn’t look like the result of the twenty-millionth fight. If anything it almost looked like an unspoken agreement to simply stop talking to each other anymore.

And yet there was obviously something wrong, glaringly obvious to anyone who observed them for more than a minute.

They probably thought they could conceal it, but it was clear as day that they were in pain. Whenever they accidentally looked at each other they would quickly turn away, their fists clenching instinctively as they set their jaws and forcibly stared in opposing directions. Whenever they spoke to each other their voices were strained, and whenever their short interactions ended and they parted ways they seemed to be physically tearing themselves from the other’s presence, only to hurry away as fast as they could while forcibly keeping their gazes fixed forward.

They were holding back. Both of them. For some reason or another they both seemed to have decided to distance themselves, but they were still drawn to the other, so much they had to keep themselves away at every opportunity. It was glaringly obvious that they wanted to be together, wanted to be close, and yet they had chosen to put up this distance even though it was clearly breaking both their hearts.

Just how bad did their communication have to be to end in a situation like this?

Usui sighed, shaking his head. Maybe he shouldn’t have had so much faith in these idiots. He had hoped they had matured enough to work out their issues by themselves this time, without any need to step in, but somehow they had taken the mess they had made and turned it into a mess of epic proportions.

Things couldn’t continue like this. Their own heartbreaks aside, this duo would soon become the backbone of the team. They needed to get their act together, or else the Seiseki soccer club would soon have a problem.

Something needed to be done.

Usui closed his eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead. He hadn’t meant to do this, but it seemed like he had no choice. His original plan had been to wait for them to figure out whatever problem had been making things awkward and go back to the bickering but inseparable duo they had always been. Announcing the captain and vice-captain while their relationship was strained, he had thought, would only cause trouble. A few days, and things would be fine.

Except a few days had passed, and now things were less fine than before.

In that case... he simply needed to grab them by their sense of duty and loyalty to the team.

“Sensei,” he said to Nakazawa, who was standing beside him to observe the team, looking equally concerned about the sudden dive in the designated captain and vice-captain’s relationship. “I think it’s time to tell the team about the next captain, after all.”

Nakazawa frowned, narrowing his eyes into a skeptical squint. “I know,” he said. “It’s time. But I still haven’t decided who it should be.”

“What do you mean?” Usui put on a smile, tilting his head slightly in the hopeless pair’s direction. “I thought we already decided that weeks ago.”

“That was before. D’you think I can make these two captain and vice-captain when they’re acting like  _this?_ ”

“No.”

“Then what–”

“I think you need to.”

Nakazawa turned his head to stare at him, his expression so baffled Usui could almost see the question mark floating above his head. “Usui, no offense, but–”

Usui smiled innocently. “Has my advice ever been wrong before?”

“No... but...”

“Then listen to me. I know what I’m doing.” Usui peered at the second-years, then back at Nakazawa. “These two won’t make up on their own. They need some force from the outside. Like a dedicated friend... or an incentive to take matters in their own hands because the situation requires it.”

Nakazawa furrowed his brow in thought. “That actually makes sense.”

“And if they become captain and vice-captain,” Usui continued, “not only will we not have to deal with any Shiba-related tantrums, we can also count on them realizing this is a job where they have to get along. They may be stupid, but Kimishita puts the team before himself. And Shiba will be determined enough to do his job right.”

Nakazawa sighed, sagging his shoulders a little as he hung his head in defeat. “If you say so,” he said. “But can you guarantee these two will actually get their act together if we do it your way?”

“Of course.”

Usui narrowed his eyes, his smile turning devious as he took another glance at the struggling pair on the pitch. “They’ll behave. All these two need is a little push in the right direction.”


	49. Push

“Captain?” Ooshiba repeated, his eyes going round in disbelief. “I’m gonna be the next captain?”

Mizuki gave him a thumbs-up while Coach Nakazawa nodded and sighed. “At least you get it on the first try,” he said, pointing exasperatedly at Mizuki. “This guy took about five explanations to get it.”

“Hmm?” Mizuki tilted his head in question. “Get what?”

“Never you mind. You’re retiring anyway.”

Ooshiba stared at Nakazawa, then at Mizuki, then back at Nakazawa. Then a smug smile spread over his face, and his nose rose up in the air with uncontained pride. “I’m already doing a better job than you.”

Mizuki still looked a little confused, but he gave him a double thumbs-up. Nakazawa didn’t bat an eye. He only stared at Ooshiba with dark bags under his eyes and an expression that was even more tired than usual. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” he said, looking like he already regretted this whole ordeal for whatever reason.

“I am better! It’s ‘cause I’m way smarter than this guy!” Ooshiba pointed demonstratively at Mizuki, who did nothing to either confirm or deny the statement. Then a thought crossed his mind. A scary, shocking, absolutely infuriating thought.

“Wait a sec,” he said, squinting suspiciously at them both. “You’re not just saying I’m gonna be captain to motivate me again or some shit, right?”

Mizuki patted a hand on his shoulder. “We’re saying this to motivate you to become captain.” He paused. “Or something.”

“You shut up, you’re not helping.” Nakazawa pushed Mizuki to the side just as Ooshiba was about to open his mouth and yell at him. “What he means is that we’re expecting you to act like a proper captain now that we’ve told you this. I think.” He glanced at Mizuki for affirmation, receiving a determined nod in return. “Because you’re actually becoming the next captain of Seiseki. No baits this time.”

Ooshiba blinked owlishly. His mouth stood slightly open, his eyes the size of saucers as the full scope of Nakazawa’s words truly began to sink in.

He was going to be the next captain. No, he was the next captain. The current third-years were retiring. The one who was about to take over, the one who would lead the team from now... it was him. Just like he had always hoped.

He was the captain. He was the ace. Nothing more to stop him. No one to stand in his way. He was no longer second to anyone in anything. No Mizuki to outshine him on the pitch. No Mizuki to be treated as the number one and the star while he was right there, waiting his turn.

_Captain_. That title would no longer refer to someone else. It was his now. He had waited, waited his turn, he had worked hard to become as suitable for it as possible, and now it was his. His alone. And he was not giving it back.

_Captain. I’m the captain!_

Ooshiba let out a shout, pumping his fists in the air and cheering. “I did it!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “I did it! Bow to me, peasants! I’m the new captain here!”

No one answered him. No one bowed to him either. There was no one around to do the job except the blank-faced coach and the now ex-captain.

Oh well, he thought. That could wait. The next time he saw his teammates, he would make them make up for their absence. Captain! What a delightful title. He could truly make them bow to him now and tell them what to do and no one could do the same to him!

Mizuki cracked a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder again, incomprehensible brown eyes meeting with his own. “Lead the team, Ooshiba,” he said. “Win the nationals for us again.”

Ooshiba stuck out his chest. “Of course!”

“And the Inter-High.”

“You bet your ass I will!” Ooshiba couldn’t help a smug smirk. “’Cause you couldn’t.”

“And beat Indou for me again. He can’t get arrogant just because I’m gone.”

“Sure– wait a sec! He’s graduating with you!”

Mizuki didn’t bat an eye. “You can’t know that.”

Ooshiba was this close to saying that Mizuki was at way more risk of repeating the year than Indou was, but he decided against it. No need to tempt fate. If he spoke it out now, who knew what might happen. If he had to bow to Mizuki for yet another year–

Speaking of that...

“By the way,” Ooshiba said, already dreading the answer no matter what it was, “if I’m captain now, then who’s gonna be my vice-captain?”

\---

Kimishita stared at Usui in disbelief, half hoping, half dreading that everything he had just heard was one big, impossible mistake.

“Vice-captain?” he repeated, the word unfamiliar and somehow terrifying on his tongue. Like it belonged to someone else, someone more suited to the job and someone who wasn’t knee-deep in...  _something_  he didn’t feel like explaining. “Wha–? I... will be the new vice-captain?”

That didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense. Kiichi had wanted him to have that position, sure. But Kiichi was Kiichi. Up until now, he had only been a regular player, nothing less and nothing more. It wasn’t like he had any part in choosing the next captain and vice-captain. And he had never expected Nakazawa or Mizuki or Usui to see any suitable vice-captain qualities in  _him_  of all people.

And yet...

“That’s right,” Usui said so casually Kimishita could almost not believe he was talking about something as important as the future of the team. “You’ll be vice-captain, and Shiba will be captain.” A glint flashed up in his eyes, sharp and piercing as they shot through Kimishita’s gaze. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Did he?

What a question. Of course he did. Concerns about the coach’s decision and his own leadership skills aside, this was a problem on a whole different scale.

Vice-captain alongside Kiichi. Kiichi’s vice-captain. At another time he might have been happy about that. It would mean having to work even closer together in the future, putting aside their bickering and differences to lead this team side by side, trying and completing each other even better than before. It would mean discussions about the team’s problems and shortcomings, strategy sessions and emergency meetings, staying together after practice long after everyone else was gone. It would mean an excuse to spend even more time together, alone, and only a few days ago he would have been grateful for every excuse to spend another minute, another second with Kiichi.

Now all these very things had become the problem.

He didn’t want to spend extra time with Kiichi. No, that wasn’t the right way to put it. He did want to, but he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. He had decided to move on, and unless he put as much distance between them he would never do it. If they had to stay this close together, interact, work together... he would never get over these feelings, get rid of this unhealthy addiction that was slowly eating him up from the inside.

Even now the emotional part of him wanted to take the job. He wanted to become Kiichi’s vice-captain and stay by his side, support him, give him advice, snatch and hold onto every second he would get to spend together with him, inhaling his presence like air. He wanted to ditch his resolve and throw himself back into the flames, suffocating from the smoke and letting the fire consume him simply in search of the warmth he knew he wasn’t allowed to have. Who cared if his feelings were one-sided? Who cared if it broke his heart? He wanted to be with Kiichi. And as long as there was the tiniest spark of hope, the tiniest glint among all the wreckage, he didn’t want to give up on this feeling.

Except the reasonable part of him knew this approach would kill him.

He had fallen far enough. In a handful of weeks, or however long it had been since he had fallen back in love with Kiichi, he had already crashed and burned up and hurt himself over and over, but he had not yet crossed the point of no return. He needed to quit now, or he would never recover. If he had to spend a whole year feeling the way he did now, it would break his heart so irrevocably he could never truly become whole again.

“I...”

_What do I do? What do I say?_

His thoughts moved through his head at lightning speed. He should decline. He knew he should. Refuse to become vice-captain and recommend Satou or Suzuki instead. They would do a much better job anyway. He would feel jealous, sure, but at least he could bring as much distance between himself and Kiichi as he needed to heal.

The old Kiichi might have thrown a tantrum over that. Refused to accept any other vice-captain but him. But the current Kiichi... he doubted it. They had fallen apart too much for him to still want him at his side, anyway.

“I... don’t know.”

There was so much that didn’t add up. So much he didn’t understand. Why had he been elected vice-captain? Who had made the decision? Why had anyone thought it was a good idea as long as he and Kiichi were... like this? Wouldn’t Kiichi mind?

_What in the world was he supposed to do?_

“You don’t know?” Usui repeated, and there was something odd in his voice, his smile threatening but his tone surprisingly friendly, as if he was genuinely curious or understood something Kimishita didn’t. “I thought it’s an honor to be entrusted with such a responsibility. What’s not to know?”

Kimishita swallowed.  _A lot,_  he wanted to say.  _Not that you’d understand. Most of this isn’t something I can tell you._

“...Why me?”

The question had left his lips before he knew what was happening. Two simple words. That was enough to sum up more than half his questions, and hopefully enough to at least give him a hint for making sense of the rest. “I don’t understand,” he said, the stress turning his voice defensive in a way most would mistake for irritability. “There are enough people on the team who could do the job! Satou could do it, Suzuki could... I’m not sociable like them! I’m not nice! Why does it have to be me when I barely know how to handle this team on a good day?”

Usui raised his eyebrows, nothing more than a tiny movement, barely noticeable. But Kimishita shuddered. This slight change in the vice-captain’s expression was enough to tell him he had messed things up royally.

“Kimishita,” Usui said quietly but clearly, his voice as cold as his smile, “are you questioning the coach’s decision-making abilities?”

Kimishita jumped. “N-No!”

“Then whose?” Usui continued in the same tone. “Mine?”

This was a trap, Kimishita thought with a shudder. And he had walked right into it like a fool. “Of course not!”

“That’s a relief.”  _Especially for me_ , Kimishita thought as the layer of ice melted off Usui’s voice. “But you’re still questioning the decision, aren’t you? So if you have faith in all our skills at making decisions, then what’s the problem?”

A lot of things. But he could start with one thing that had been bugging him from the beginning.

“Who chose me?”

Usui’s eyebrows rose up again, but this time the expression that accompanied it wasn’t cold but genuinely interested, almost friendly. “Several people,” he said. “Why is that important?”

“I...” Kimishita blushed with embarrassment, squirming under those all-perceiving eyes that seemed to look directly into his soul. “I want to know their reasons. Why it couldn’t be someone else... why it has to be me.”

“Why shouldn’t it? You’re responsible.” Usui’s smile turned gentle. “You’re smart, hardworking, and you have the common sense our forwards tend to lack.” Kimishita bit back a groan, and Usui laughed. “You may be a bit unsociable sometimes, and you definitely need to work on that, but haven’t you noticed? Even the first-years, who started out terrified of you, have started to look up to you as a reliable upperclassman. They trust you now, you know?”

Kimishita frowned. Usui was right, he realized. Somewhere along the way, without knowing how and where it happened, the annoying brats had stopped quivering at his very sight and started relying on him instead, trusting his decisions and cheering for him during matches. He did wish they could be a little less embarrassing and touchy-feely about it at times, but it was definitely true that, at some point or another, he had managed to win them over on his side.

“But the main reason you’ve been elected vice-captain,” Usui continued, his gaze completely serious and piercing through Kimishita’s mind, “is because of Shiba.”

Kimishita choked on air. His face caught fire in the tiny fragment of a second. “ _Kiichi?_ ”

“That’s right.” Usui’s eyes continued to lock with his own, fixing his gaze, unblinking, leaving him unable to look away no matter how much he wished he could. “You know, I was actually pretty skeptical on making you vice-captain. But I talked to Shiba about it, and he didn’t even let me suggest making someone else his number two without throwing a tantrum.”

_Oh, Kiichi._

Kimishita closed his eyes, sadness and desperate affection warring passionately in his heart. This idiot. This precious, impossible idiot. What had he been thinking? To think that he had actually stuck to his words, that it hadn’t only been a stupid text message... that he had meant every word, so much that he had stood up to Usui and thrown a fit until he agreed to go along with his wish and convince the coach...

But that had been before the rejection. Before heartbreak and all the other messes that had come in between them both. Usui must have asked him back when things had still been okay, when they had still been close. If he asked Kiichi the same thing now... he doubted his response would be the same.

“I see,” he said quietly, unable to keep the sadness from seeping into his voice. “But that was back then.”

Usui didn’t bat an eye. “Why, has something changed since?”

Kimishita swallowed again. His gaze dropped down to the ground. “You’ve seen how Kiichi and I are right now,” he said bitterly, gripping the strap of his bag as his bangs fell into his face like a kind curtain, shielding him from Usui’s questioning eyes. “If I just became vice-captain because Kiichi wanted me to... I’ll step down.” A knot caught in his chest, and he exhaled hard to get it out in a voiceless groan. “There’s no reason anymore.”

“You know, I don’t think so.”

Kimishita glanced up. Usui was still gazing at him, smiling, but this time his smile was warm and welcoming, the kind expression of the team mom who had taken the entire Seiseki soccer club under his wing to offer support and guidance. The last of his threatening aura had vanished, leaving only gentle, friendly understanding behind.

“The thing is,” he said, stepping into Kimishita’s space and carefully resting his fingers on the hand that was still clutching the strap of his bag like a lifeline, “I would never have given in to Shiba’s tantrum or convinced Nakazawa-sensei to go for this captain-vice captain combo if I’d thought he was just acting on a whim.” Usui tilted his head down to slightly peer up at Kimishita from below. “Shiba thinks very highly of you, you know.”

_I know that,_  Kimishita wanted to say.  _But not in the way I wish he would._

“Of course he does,” he grumbled instead. “But the same thing goes for Satou. So why–”

“And yet,” Usui went on, “he didn’t want Satou as his vice-captain. He only wanted you.” He paused a little to let his words sink in. “Why do you think that is?”

“I...” Kimishita wished he had an explanation for that, some kind of answer, but he could think of nothing. “I... don’t know.”

“He trusts you, Kimishita. More than anyone else.”

Kimishita tensed. There it was again, that affection warring with the sadness and regret, but this time something else moved quietly into the mix. Gently, carefully... a spark of hope. Hope that he immediately shut down again. He was supposed to move on. He shouldn’t hope anymore. So... what was this feeling?

“Maybe he did,” Kimishita said hastily, more to shut down his own traitorous heart than to talk back to Usui. “But we’ve fallen apart! Things are awkward between us now! How can he still trust me?”

Usui was quiet for a long, long moment. Then he sighed.

“Kimishita Atsushi,” he said, “you’re an idiot.”

Kimishita jolted, flushing at the sudden use of his full name. “Wha–”

“I don’t know what went down between you two,” Usui said, “but I’ll tell you what I observed. And my observations are that Shiba hasn’t stopped liking or trusting you. To me it looks more like... like you’re both holding back.”

The world slowed down.

Kimishita’s eyes went wide, staring incredulously at Usui, trying to process what he had just told him.  _You’re both holding back_. He knew he was. But Kiichi... if Usui, the all-perceiving Usui, thought that he was doing the same... that he was... feeling the same...

_Let’s not go that far._

“Shiba still trusts you, Kimishita.” Usui smiled. “And he still wants you as his vice-captain. If his conviction was so deep he managed to convince me too, he hasn’t lost it over a falling out or some sort of misunderstanding. That’s not the kind of person Shiba is.”

He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to hear this.

Kimishita wanted to run. He wanted to cover his ears and run away as fast as he could, shoving out Usui’s words until he had forgotten them all, pretending this entire conversation had never happened. He didn’t want to hear this. He shouldn’t believe it. Usui had to be wrong. It had to be one big mistake. If it wasn’t... if Usui was right after all...

Was there still hope after all? Had he been wrong to give up already?

He shouldn’t think that. He shouldn’t listen. And yet here he was. Standing frozen on the spot, unable to do any more than stare at Usui with wide eyes.

“Shiba wants no one but you as his right-hand man.” Usui’s words echoed into his mind, taking root in his subconscious no matter how much he tried to fight it. “He doesn’t want to take up this job without your brains and advice, your sense of observation and level-headed guidance. He thinks no one’s suited for the job like you are. Not as long as he’s captain.” Usui’s smile widened. “Do you really want to leave him alone with all this when he’s been counting on you?”

_Shut up. Shut up!_

He shouldn’t hear it. He didn’t want to hear it. And yet... and yet...  _and yet..._

Usui was right, he realized. Kiichi had wanted to become captain so badly. And he had always relied on him. If Kiichi didn’t want to do this job without his support, what was he doing? Wasn’t Kiichi his friend? His partner?

No... no. He had to pull the brakes. He had to be this selfish. Agreeing to this would invariably end in heartbreak. First of all he needed to learn how to keep his feelings in check. Only after that could he think about taking up a job that would get him so close to the one he loved and couldn’t have.

“I–”

“Kimishita,” Usui said as if he could read his thoughts. “Have you ever thought that Shiba might need you too?”

Kimishita froze.

The world came to a halt. Everything around him fell silent. The only thing he still sensed were the thoughts that slowly broke into his head like a dam.

_Kiichi needs me._

It was such a simple thought. Such a simple, obvious concept. And yet, in all this chaos, it had never crossed his mind.

Of course he did. Of course. After all these years together he should know, he should understand how much Kiichi relied on him, not only for advice but also for comfort, emotional support in bad times and a voice of reason when his feelings became overwhelming. Ever since the first year of middle school Kiichi had counted on him so much, and what had he been about to do? Had he truly considered withdrawing from him and pulling away, leaving Kiichi without a pillar to lean on?

_I’m such an idiot._

All this time he had only thought of his own emotions, his own heartbreak. But what about Kiichi? What should he do? He hadn’t used his head at all. So many times he had relied on this idiot, accepted his help and his comfort, that he had completely forgotten it wasn’t a one-sided thing.

_You don’t have to be my replacement goldfish anymore._  Was he stupid? That sounded like he had been breaking off their strange relationship of replacements, even though Kiichi still needed it. Just because Kimishita was over Mizuki didn’t mean Kiichi was over the object of his own affections, over the need to be loved and treated with the warmth and adoration he so badly craved from someone else. Kiichi had been there for him after every failed date with Mizuki. What had Kimishita done in return? Had he ever offered comfort or advice or even something as simple as a hug? Had he even bothered to show Kiichi he cared about his side of the story at all?

_I’ve been so blind._

He must have hurt Kiichi. Over and over. Without realizing it he had always been taking and refusing to give, and then he had selfishly cut things off when he was the only one who didn’t need things from Kiichi anymore. He understood that now. He understood everything.

No more.

He had to pull the brakes on this. He had to sort this out. No matter how terrifying he was, no matter how likely it was that this would end in heartbreak, he needed to talk to Kiichi and apologize. Offer something in return. Anything. He didn’t know what, but he needed to make up for his mistake, no matter how.

“I... think I understand.”

His hands were shaking. His voice was shaking. But his resolve stood. His conscience, his sense of duty refused to allow him to do anything else. He needed to solve this, and if Kiichi still wanted him, he needed to take up his title as the vice-captain on Kiichi’s side. Even if it broke him later. He could think about that some other time. When Kiichi was happy again, maybe.

The team needed him. And so did Kiichi.

And for the team’s sake, and for Kiichi’s sake, he would fix this.

Some way or another.


	50. Captain

Kimishita. His vice-captain would be Kimishita.

Ooshiba went home in a daze, the thoughts and feelings inside his brain a tangled, convoluted mess. Kimishita was going to be his vice-captain. He knew what that meant. He had observed the captains and vice-captains before them. It meant working closely together, spending much more time together, conspiring together and trusting and supporting each other completely as they took the entirety of the team under their wing. It meant being constantly close, as teammates and friends and partners, closer than he had ever been with Kimishita.

Part of him was happy about that. But for the rest of him, it was a huge problem.

Ooshiba had confidence in himself, but this time he was at a loss. He usually knew his way out of a situation, but this time he had no idea what to do. Could he and Kimishita work together as captain and vice-captain? A few weeks ago, no, a few days ago his answer to that would have been a clear yes. But now...?

_Move on._  That was what Ooshiba had told himself. He didn’t want to be hopelessly in love anymore. He didn’t want to live with this longing and heartbreak, and that was why he had decided to put as much distance between him and Kimishita as he could. It had been working so well... and now this. Now that he had finally made up his mind, life had to go and put itself right into his way again.

How on earth was he supposed to move on if Kimishita was his vice-captain, damn it?

Groaning, Ooshiba raked his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. What the hell! This was coming too late! Couldn’t all this stupid stuff have happened before Kimishita had dismissed him as a replacement goldfish and shattered his hopes? Why on earth was this announcement only happening now?

He was screwed. He was royally screwed.

Forget moving on. Forget getting over Kimishita. If he let this happen, Ooshiba would only fall deeper than he ever had before and get his heart broken so badly he would live with the shards for the rest of his life.

But what should he have done? There was nothing he could have done to prevent this. He was the one who had thrown such a fit in Kimishita’s favor, refusing to accept anyone else as his right hand. Only in front of Usui, sure, but his gut feeling told him that Usui had definitely had a hand in choosing the new captain and vice-captain, and when it came to things like this his gut was never wrong. How lame would it have looked if he had refused to accept him as his vice-captain now, without even being able to provide an explanation? That’d be embarrassing. Completely unfitting of someone as important and responsible as the newly appointed team captain.

So here he was. Paired up with the one person he didn’t want to be paired up with anymore, unable to do a single thing to stop it. And completely clueless about what on earth he should do now.

A responsible captain, he thought, would have to put up with it. Swallow his own feelings and work with the vice-captain, pretending to be fine and only breaking down when he was alone in his room, with no one around to watch him. A good captain would put the team before his feelings and go along with this, hoping that by thet time this year was over, he would still be able to function.

Could he do that? Was he strong enough?

_If only he could ask Kimishita about it. Kimishita would know._

Ooshiba gave his head a violent shake. No way. He wasn’t thinking of that guy. Especially not in that way. No thinking about him unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t need him or his stupid advice. Heroes could deal with this on their own.

Somehow. Right?

But what if he couldn’t?

Ooshiba stopped walking, groaning and ruffling up his hair and not caring about the mess he was making for once. This was going nowhere. His head was going in circles. Why couldn’t he do something about this stupid arrangement? He’d be damned if he gave up his title of captain, but if he got someone else to–

Wait a second.

Hope glimmered up in his heart, along with a shadow of dread. Kimishita. Of course. Things were awkward between both of them after all, and Kimishita wasn’t stupid. He might have realized they weren’t fit to work together the way they were. He... might have declined the job.

That would hurt like hell, he thought. But it would be a relief.

Without thinking about what he did, Ooshiba pulled out his phone, picking out Kimishita’s contact and starting to type a message. Just this once, he told himself, it was okay. This was important. He wasn’t banned from contacting Kimishita about important things.

_hey... abt the captain thing_

_ur the vicecaptain right_

_did u eccept the job?_

Then he waited. Why, he didn’t know. For all he knew Kimishita might not check his phone for hours, and yet he had a feeling that this time he would reply fast. Maybe it was hope, maybe intuition. He couldn’t tell.

The messages were marked as read less than a minute after sending. Kimishita started typing, and a moment later his reply popped up on the screen.  _Yeah,_  he had written.  _Why?_

Ooshiba swallowed. What should he reply to that?

_idk_

_u didnt wnana do it n shit_

_and_

Ooshiba hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He had typed in and sent that last message without thinking, but now he was at a loss. Should he really add this? Shouldn’t he simply go with it and say nothing more?

But a good captain, some part of him thought, would try to fix this. A good captain would at least bring up the problem instead of hiding it. Maybe that was why he had typed it... and yet...

What should he say? No matter what he tried, it all sounded stupid. Kimishita seemed fine. Why should he bother with this and mess up their relationship even more?

_nvm. its nohting_

There was a very long pause.

Ooshiba continued to stand there, waiting for a reply from Kimishita, but nothing came. The message was left on read, and that was it. No typing. No reply. Nothing.

Of course not. What should he even reply to that?

Ooshiba didn’t know. But he was still frustrated.

Sighing, he closed the chat and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, continuing the walk home. But he had barely taken three steps when it buzzed again, and he nearly dropped it as he pulled it out and read the incoming message three times in a row.

_Before we take over these titles,_  Kimishita had written,  _looks like we need to talk about some things. Meet me in front of the shrine in 30 minutes._

\---

It was cold when Kimishita arrived in front of the shrine, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, his nose buried in the collar of his coat. The snow had melted and disappeared, but the weather had quickly become freezing again, bringing clear skies and crackling cold air that made clouds form with every breath. The sun was setting a little later again now, the city not quite dark but the place in front of the shrine deserted already, the last handful of people seeking refuge inside their houses to escape from the freezing night air.

All the better, Kimishita thought as he breathed into his hands and rubbed them together to warm them up. The fewer people were here to watch, the more freely he could talk, without needing to worry about someone overhearing things he really didn’t want the world to know. And yet this still had the benefits of a public place, one that didn’t feel as awkwardly intimate as visiting each other’s houses or talking somewhere private. If push came to shove, they could always walk away without problems. Even if he really, truly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Kimishita had no idea what had possessed him to arrange this spontaneous meeting. Things like this were usually Kiichi’s specialty. It had been a sudden whim, a spur-of-the-moment decision, the feeling of  _now or never_  that had shot into his head faster than he could stop it. Or maybe it had been simple logic. Kiichi had messaged him. He needed to talk to Kiichi. Might as well seize this opportunity to take care of things as he liked to: as soon and fast as possible.

He just hoped Kiichi would show up. Half an hour since he had sent the message had almost passed, and Kiichi hadn’t replied. The text had been marked as read almost immediately, whatever that meant. Maybe it was a good sign that he hadn’t declined. Maybe it meant the opposite. But no, Kiichi wouldn’t ignore him that suddenly. He should at least have made some sort of excuse.

...Right?

Kimishita clicked his tongue, trying to shush the doubts in his head. Kiichi might have changed now, he might be acting weird and different, but at the core he was still the same. And the Kiichi he knew wouldn’t stand him up like this. Especially not if it meant leaving him waiting here in the freezing cold.

He glanced down at his watch. Three more minutes until they were supposed to meet. But who knew if Kiichi would make it in time–

“Kimishita?”

Kimishita almost jumped. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed his footsteps approaching at all. But when he turned around, Kiichi was only a few footsteps away, wide-eyed and tense, his bag dropped next to him on the ground, his nose and cheeks red from the cold.

“Kiichi,” he said quietly, even as his heart started pounding like a sledgehammer in his chest. His words came out sluggish, slightly slurred. It was like the cold had frozen the very muscles of his face. “You came, huh.”

Kiichi ran a gloved hand through his hair, further messing up the red spikes that had already looked messier than usual. “Yup,” he muttered, staring quietly at the deserted shrine. “Like you asked.”

Silence.

Kiichi stared at his shoes. Kimishita fidgeted. On the way here he had thought of so many things, putting together the perfect words to say, the perfect questions, but now that he could say them, they had all disappeared. Somehow all that eloquence seemed out of place in this situation, inappropriate. And he had no idea what he was supposed to say instead.

Maybe it was best to go with honesty, then.

“Kiichi, I... I asked you here because... ah, fuck it.” Screw the phrases and niceties, he thought. Screw all that unnecessary decoration. Following a sudden impulse, Kimishita straightened his back and stooped down into a low bow.

“I’m sorry.”

He waited a moment, letting his words sink in as he anxiously waited for Kiichi’s reaction. His eyes peered up to search for any clues in his expression, any response. But for a long, quiet second, Kiichi didn’t seem to be reacting at all.

“What–” he stuttered out at last, his voice startled but too quiet for him, his eyes wide and filled with an emotion Kimishita didn’t understand. “What are you... Hey, what the fuck are you sorry for?”

Kimishita bit his lip. This response was so unlike Kiichi that it made his chest tighten, his ribcage constricting with guilt and shame and the urge to straighten up and yell at the idiot until he went back to his normal self and made a smug remark about him casting aside his pride to bow and apologize.

“Idiot,” he said instead, staring down at the ground in front of him, Kiichi’s shoes, the shadows the two of them cast onto the concrete from the light of the setting sun. “Everything, of course! Like how I broke off our...”  _Our what?_  he wondered. “Our... whatever it was... just because I didn’t need a replacement anymore, without once thinking that you still do! Or how you were always there for me when things were rough with Captain, and I never stopped once to fucking care about your side of the story at all!”

Clicking his tongue, he straightened up, glancing at Kiichi’s face, then back at the ground. There, he had said it. But what now? How was he supposed to go from here? Was there even a right way to proceed from here on out?

“That’s not true.”

Kimishita stopped in his tracks. His head shot up. His eyes stared up at Kiichi, who had averted his gaze and buried his hands in his pockets, looking strangely small and forlorn and incredibly lonely.

“You didn’t do all that,” Kiichi muttered, a light gust of wind brushing over the square and momentarily tousling his hair. “And you don’t gotta apologize. If you didn’t wanna keep doing that thing after breaking up with Captain, don’t do it.”

Kimishita swallowed. “But–”

“Nope. Don’t do it.” Kiichi crossed his arms, but his face looked like he was in a lot of pain. “You don’t gotta do shit just ‘cause you feel sorry for me, asshole.”

“This isn’t about feeling sorry, you moron!”

Kimishita didn’t know why, but he was getting angry. Something about Kiichi’s tone, his expression, his defeatist attitude was infuriating him. This wasn’t fair, some part of him screamed. Whatever this stupid, kind-hearted, stubborn idiot deserved, it definitely wasn’t  _this!_

“Listen!” he shouted, grabbing Kiichi’s collar like he wanted to punch him. “This is about friendship and human decency! Would you have let me decline an offer like this? You’re the one who told me to accept things from people, you fucking hypocrite!”

Kiichi flinched, trying to pull himself free, but Kimishita’s grip was stronger. “Let go!” he protested. “This is different–”

“How?” Kimishita yelled in his face. “You’ve been doing everything for me, haven’t you? You’ve been listening to me! You’ve been cheering me up! You’ve been giving me what I needed! And I never did a single thing for you in return! You’ve been heartbroken too, right? You would’ve needed someone to do all this sappy bullshit for you too, right? How the fuck is that fair, huh? Use your head, idiot!”

Kimishita took a deep breath. His voice was getting hoarse from yelling, or maybe it was the lump in his throat that had started to make it raspy. His shoulders were rising and falling like the ground during an earthquake, his deep, heavy breaths the only thing to keep him from snapping even more.

“You told me before,” he said more quietly, loosening his grip on Kiichi’s collar. “That I take too much and never give back. You were right... I still haven’t reached out to you the way you did to me.” He swallowed hard. “So... if you need anything... someone to vent to... a shoulder to cry on... a fucking replacement goldfish... anything” He let go of Kiichi’s collar, stepping back just enough to not be all in his face anymore. His eyes were focused on the ground. His face was burning, his heart pounding, anxious butterflies consuming his insides. “I’m here.”

“Kimishita...”

Kiichi’s voice was still quiet, but his tone had changed. He wasn’t trying to shut himself off anymore, Kimishita realized. Instead he sounded... hesitant. Confused, maybe. Like even he didn’t know what on earth he was supposed to do or feel.

“You’re still wrong,” he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. “You’re not taking too much. I just didn’t tell you shit ‘cause I didn’t wanna.”

Kimishita flinched slightly, but he didn’t falter. “So what?” he said. “I never would’ve told you anything on my own if you hadn’t pressed it either!”

Kiichi didn’t answer.

“And besides,” Kimishita went on, “what’s with this attitude? You always used to tell me about every problem and bitch until I gave you advice!”

Kiichi took a step back, looking frighteningly caught. For a second Kimishita thought he might turn around and run away right then and there. Then he swallowed, crossing his arms tighter and pulling up his shoulders as if to protect himself. “Not telling you.”

“Kiichi, don’t be a brat! At least explain why you’ve been keeping so many secrets!”

“Nope.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, pushing up the irritation inside him to block out the pain and anxiousness. “Is it because of that story with the girl or what? You don’t trust me with love advice, is that it?”

“ _No!_ ”

Kiichi’s head had reflexively shot back up, his bright eyes flaring with anger. Then he jolted and quickly looked back down. “I trust you, asshole,” he said. “Just... there’s no point in telling you about this.”

Kimishita sighed in impatience. “Why should that be, huh?”

“‘Cause I don’t need advice.” Kiichi’s voice came out raspy, shaky, and he swallowed, to no avail. “I already know what I gotta do.” His eyes briefly met with Kimishita’s. “Get a new tropical fish and move on.”

Kimishita gritted his teeth. His own words.

He was probably right, he wanted to think. If the situation was hopeless, then Kiichi was doing the right thing. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. Kimishita would have told him the exact same thing.

And yet... why did something about Kiichi’s words, his behavior seem so  _wrong_? Why couldn’t he shake the feeling that this idiot was hugely mistaken about something?

“Makes sense,” he said slowly. “If it really is that hopeless...”

Kiichi swallowed again. “It is.”

“How do you know?”

The words left Kimishita’s tongue without thinking, and suddenly he understood. He understood exactly what had been bothering him so much about Kiichi’s attitude.

“It’s not like you to have this defeatist attitude,” he said, shooting Kiichi a glare and not wavering when he saw him flinch. “What are you giving up for, huh? Did they reject you or something?”

Kiichi squirmed. “No...”

“Then what? Are they taken?”

“...nope...”

“ _Then what on earth gave you the fucking idea that you should give up without trying, huh?_ ”

Kimishita didn’t understand why, but he was angry. Furious. He knew he shouldn’t be. What was he doing, getting so hung up on some person Kiichi loved who he might not even know? What was he doing, getting up the hopes of the one he loved instead of helping him get over that person and hoping his feelings would shift towards him like a reasonable human being? Was he an idiot? A masochist?

Kiichi’s eyes went wide. For a second he looked stunned, almost hopeful, then he balled up his fists, stubbornly staring at the ground. “I’ve seen how they act around me,” he said. “I know I don’t stand a chance. I’m not blind.”

“You could at least try to confess, you coward!”

Kimishita didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t care anymore. “Listen up, dumbass!” he snapped. “What the fuck happened to you, huh? Last time I checked you were full of pride and misplaced optimism! Last time I checked you simply ignored all your failures and fuck-ups and took every risk head-on! The Kiichi I know is not a fucking chicken who gives up without trying!”

Kiichi pressed his lips together. His hands were still clenched into fists, but Kimishita could see they were shaking. “I...” His voice was crumbling, and he swallowed audibly. Maybe it was just the light playing a trick on him, but Kimishita could have sworn there were tears gathering in his eyes. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I think he already knows–” He stopped short, horror dawning on his face as he started to realize his slip-up.

Kimishita’s heart skipped a beat.

“He?” he repeated, a storm of confusion and disbelief and hope swirling up inside him. “It’s... it’s a  _he_?”

Kiichi turned red. His pained expression turned into a defensive scowl. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not! Do I look like a hypocrite to you?” Kimishita was still reeling. “But... but... I thought you liked girls!”

“I do!” Kiichi shot back. “Just... not just girls. Guys too.”

“...I see.”

Kimishita didn’t know what to say anymore. His head was spinning. His heart was pounding wildly against his ribcage like a drum solo.  _Kiichi likes guys too_ , a voice kept whispering in his head.  _Not just girls. Guys too._

_It’s not entirely hopeless._

He didn’t want to think that. He shouldn’t think that. So why? Why couldn’t he shake the thought, the feeling?

“Kiichi,” he said slowly, barely able to hear himself over his racing thoughts and his thudding heartbeat. “This person you like... who... is he?”

He didn’t dare look at Kiichi. He barely had the courage to stay here and listen to the answer. It would invariably crush his heart, he thought. He had just started hoping, and Kiichi’s answer would be bound to break him.

“I’m not telling you.”

Kimishita’s heart sank. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but he was still disappointed. Frustrated. If he already had to lose Kiichi to someone else, didn’t he have a right to know who on earth he was losing to?

“Kiichi, don’t be an idiot!” he snapped at him. “You’ve told me this much, so why the fuck should you keep hiding the rest?”

“Because...” Kiichi swallowed and took a shaky breath, his bangs falling into his eyes, his voice more choked up than ever. “‘Cause if I told you... you’d hate me forever.”

What kind of answer was that supposed to be?

“Idiot!” Kimishita shot back, hurt and offended and more frustrated than ever. “You’re the one who hated me going out with Captain and you were still there for me! Why the fuck should you think I’ll hate you for the person you like?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Do you not trust me or what?”

“I do!”

“Well, it doesn’t look like it!” Kimishita’s voice resounded off the nearby buildings, furious and desperate. “If you really trusted me, you wouldn’t think I’ll hate you for something you can’t even control, idiot!”

Kiichi went silent. His expression was impossible to read, but at least he didn’t talk back anymore. He didn’t protest.

Sighing, Kimishita shook off some of his fury with a click of his tongue. “Fine, don’t say a name,” he said. “Do I know the person?”

“...yeah.”

“A classmate of yours?”

Kiichi shook his head.

“Someone from our team?”

A nod.

Kimishita almost forgot to breathe.  _A teammate_ , he thought. Someone from the team, the Seiseki soccer club. And not Satou. Satou was Kiichi’s classmate. But then... but then...

_It can’t be me. It’s not me._

But then who?

Who else did Kiichi pay enough attention to? Who could he harbor secret feelings for, so intense yet so well hidden that no one had picked up on it at all?

“I know you’re trynna guess,” Kiichi said quietly, cutting into his thoughts. “But don’t. You’re not gonna like the answer.”

“Why should I hate you for liking someone on the team, huh? You’re not making any sense!”

“‘Cause... you... and that guy...” Kiichi’s voice trailed off.

“We  _what?_ ” Kimishita asked impatiently. “Do we not get along? Is he that insufferable or what?”

“No! He’s... a really good guy.” Kiichi spoke quietly, almost as if talking to himself. “He’s smart... he always knows what to do. And he cares. But... he wouldn’t go for me.” He paused, taking a shaky breath as if to keep himself from bursting into tears. “He’s into other people... and I can’t be like those people. I’ve been lying to him about it... he thinks we’re just friends, but...”

His voice began to crack, and he swallowed feebly. “I can’t stop liking him, Kimishita,” he said. “I know he’s not interested... I know I don’t stand a chance, but I... but he’s special. And I...” He paused another time, and when he spoke again his voice was in shambles, falling apart and tumbling to the ground in tiny, helpless pieces. “I’m gonna keep hoping he’s gonna like me back forever... I’m gonna keep waiting... until I retire...”

Kimishita’s eyes went round.

This line... this last sentence. He recognized it. He had heard it from Kiichi before. Back then, at the riverside, celebrating their victory against Touin... the meat... and then...

And suddenly everything pieced itself together in his head.

These words. A teammate, but not a classmate. Smart. Caring. Always knew what to do. Lying to him about his feelings... thinking they were just friends... Kiichi’s refusal to tell him who it was that he liked, his stubborn determination not to confess...

All of his confusing behavior before...

Everything made sense now.

Kimishita swallowed. He didn’t know when it had happened, but suddenly he couldn’t see clearly anymore. His vision was blurred, tears flooding his eyes and threatening to fall as all his fears, all his defenses came crashing down around him and left him trembling and helpless.

“Idiot,” he said, his voice coming out raspy and shaky even as he tried to smile. “Who ever said you’d have to wait that long, huh?”

Kiichi tensed. “What–”

“Wait forever, my ass!” Kimishita pulled off his glasses and wiped a hand over his eyes, but it didn’t help at all. His heart was flooded with so many emotions that the tears just kept coming. “You’re seventeen! Don’t go around thinking you’ve already met the love of your life! No one’s worth a lifetime of suffering, you stupid romantic moron!”

Kiichi backed away, confused and visibly startled. “I’m not gonna give up–”

“And no one says you have to!”

Kimishita swallowed again, averting his eyes both out of embarrassment and to hide his watering eyes. “I’m saying you don’t have to act like this feeling is forever,” he said. “It’s not realistic... although... I wouldn’t mind if it turned out that way.”

Kiichi was silent for a very long time. “Kimi–”

“Don’t you get it already? Use your head, your head!” Kimishita wiped his eyes again, staring at Kiichi with a mixture of hope and desperation. “I love you, you big block-headed idiot!”

Kiichi froze.

His eyes widened. His cheeks turned red. For a very long moment he simply stared at Kimishita, as if waiting for him to say something else, take back his words or say it had all been a joke.

“You...” he rasped out at last, his voice soft, barely audible. “You do?”

Kimishita clicked his tongue in embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, not when there was so much pure incredulous hope in Kiichi’s eyes. “Did I fucking stutter?”

“But... but...” Kiichi hung his head. “But I lied to you... I told you I liked somebody else just ‘cause I wanted to hug you... and kiss you... and...”

“We can think about that later.”

“Kimishita–”

“It doesn’t matter!” Kimishita burst out. “It’s not a problem! It’s not like you really lied to me or took advantage of me, anyway.” He sighed. “I needed the hugs and the kiss. You wouldn’t have offered them to me otherwise, would you?”

“...mhm.”

Kiichi blinked again, then he gave a laugh that turned into a sob. “You love me,” he repeated, speaking each word with such awe as if he was reading from a sacred text. “And I love you... and you don’t hate me... right?”

Kimishita smiled through the lump in his throat. “That’s right.”

Kiichi nodded again, as if to reaffirm it to himself. Then, without warning, he crossed the distance between them and pulled Kimishita into a tight, ribcage-crushing embrace, burying his face in his shoulder and squeezing him with a muffled sob.

“Mine,” he said quietly, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Mine.”

“Yeah.” Kimishita sighed and relaxed into the hug. “I’m all yours, Kiichi.”


	51. Butterflies

Kimishita didn’t know how long they stayed there, unmoving, simply standing in that empty square in the freezing cold and holding onto each other like they’d never get another chance, nuzzling each other’s jackets and refusing to let go. The sun set behind the buildings, the sky went from orange to dark blue, and still they were there, in the same spot, pulling each other even closer against the falling evening cold.

After what felt like an eternity Kimishita finally loosened his hold, and Kiichi responded by clinging to him even more, gripping his back so tightly he couldn’t move. “Don’t let go,” he muttered, sniffling again, from the cold or still from crying earlier, Kimishita couldn’t tell. “Just a little more.”

“I’d love to,” Kimishita replied, and it was the truth. “But in case you’re noticed, it’s getting cold. We can’t stay here all night or we’ll catch pneumonia.”

Kiichi made an unwilling noise. “I don’t care.”

“I do! Your parents will kill me if I get you sick!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, but he didn’t truly feel annoyed. “Besides, who’s supposed to captain the team if both of us are out, huh?”

“Mhm...” Kiichi nuzzled even closer, but at least he didn’t try to protest again. “Just a bit longer,” he said at last. “Five more minutes.”

“Idiot. You can get them some other time,” Kimishita replied, feeling his face heat up from all the fluffy, adoring feelings welling up in his chest. Damn it, he couldn’t give in. But with the way Kiichi was acting, every passing second made it harder and harder to resist his plea. “Preferably when we’re inside and not freezing our asses off.” He glared at the nearby lantern in embarrassment. “In case you forgot, you can hug me whenever now.”

Kiichi lifted his head. “Really?”

“Of course.” Kimishita closed his eyes, his face burning now, an anxious spark of tension squirming up inside his chest. “We’re... a couple now after all... aren’t we?”

“A couple...”

Kiichi said the words slowly, as if to test how they sounded, then he gave a little laugh, silly and cheerful and a little smug, sounding almost like his usual self again. “I won,” he chimed. “I’m your boyfriend now. And you’re mine.”

Kimishita snorted. “Congratulations.”

“Nope.” Kiichi temporarily loosened his hold to poke a finger against his back. “I gotta congratulate you for winning the heart of the greatest guy on the team.”

“Oh? You didn’t sound so confident when I tried to ask you who you liked earlier.”

“That’s ‘cause I was lovesick and love makes you stupid.”

“I wasn’t aware it could make you any stupider than you already were.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kiichi squeezed Kimishita so hard he gave a gasp that came out in the form of a laugh. “We just got together. Don’t ruin the mood.”

Kimishita cracked a grin. “Who’s the one who started bragging, huh?”

“Me.” Kiichi gave a proud little huff. “‘Cause I got myself the best boyfriend ever.”

“Yourself not included, huh?”

“I can’t date myself,” Kiichi said in a tone as if Kimishita had just asked a very stupid question. “So for me you’re the best ever. I’m never gonna give you back.”

Kimishita’s insides felt warm, a giddy, fluttering feeling he had never felt before, like a laugh was trapped inside him and eager to come out, making him chuckle and grin for the stupidest reasons. “You’re such a sap,” he said, “you know that?”

“You said that before. And clingy.” Kiichi’s voice sounded smug again. “But then you said you just told me that ‘cause you were happy and freaked out.”

“Wouldn’t have told you that if I’d known you’d use it against me.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah.” Kimishita sighed. “You made me say a lot of stupid things.”

“That’s ‘cause love made you stupid too.”

“You’re the one to talk!”

Kiichi breathed a laugh. Kimishita snorted, loosening his hold just enough to look at Kiichi’s face, then pulling him back in and knocking their foreheads together. Their faces were barely inches apart now, their breaths mingling into the same cloud, their eyes locked into each other, shining and sparkling with the same joy that lit up their faces, their grins so wide Kimishita felt his face getting tired, and yet he couldn’t stop smiling however much he tried.

“Look at you,” he said, gazing deeply into Kiichi’s eyes, studying all the varying hues of blue and green he had never paid attention to before, the fluffy lashes, the reflections of the lights around them. “You’re blushing.”

Kiichi smirked. “You too.”

“That’s your bad influence.” Kimishita returned the smirk. “Your sappiness is contagious.”

Kiichi pouted at that, but he didn’t pull away from Kimishita’s forehead. “You got one letter wrong,” he said. “I’m not sappy. I’m happy.”

“You can be both, dumbass,” Kimishita said with a laugh, not even bothering to resist the wave of adoration washing into his chest at these words, the sight of this stupid expression. “I love you.”

Their eyes met again. Kimishita gazed at Kiichi’s face, every tiny detail that he had grown to love so much, familiar yet completely new. They were so close together now, as close as they had never been before, not for such an extended time. Their breaths were warming each other’s faces, leaving no room for the winter cold in the few inches that still separated them both.

Kimishita’s gaze fell down to Kiichi’s lips, butterflies stirring up inside him yet again. How many times had he imagined what it would be like to be kissed by those lips, to feel them against his own, soft and smooth and expressive? How many times had he remembered the one kiss they had shared, replaying it over and over in his mind until the memory felt so vivid it almost seemed like it had happened many times instead of one? He had never thought he’d be able to kiss those lips again in his life. But now he was here, Kiichi was here, and there was absolutely nothing stopping them both.

Standing up on his tip-toes, Kimishita tilted his face, cupped Kiichi’s head with one hand, and gently pressed their lips together.

Kiichi went stiff. The arms around Kimishita’s back loosened their hold and almost let go. His face heated up under Kimishita’s hand. Kimishita paused a little, pulling away by barely a hair’s breadth, waiting to see if he should pull him back in or give him space. Then Kiichi relaxed, melting into him and welcoming the kiss with his entire body.

It felt almost the same as their first kiss back on the evening of Christmas Day, but this time something was different. It was still cold and dark, and there still wasn’t an inch between them, pressed together in a passionate embrace, their breaths mingling and intertwining as their lips brushed together, met again and pressed against each other as if they had never belonged anywhere else. But this time the feeling was different. There was no sadness between them, no longing or desperation. The last time Kiichi had kissed him like he would never get another chance. This time they were kissing each other with the knowledge that they could do this again as soon and as many times as they liked.

If Kimishita had to choose a word to describe it... this time the kiss felt happy.

He couldn’t help smiling when they finally pulled apart to catch their breath, and Kiichi was doing the same. Kimishita grinned, and Kiichi grinned back. Then they both looked at each other and started laughing.

“Asshole!” Kiichi complained, trying and failing to sound anything close to annoyed. “What was that for?”

Kimishita smirked. “Payback.”

“For what, the fucking Christmas kiss?”

“For everything,” Kimishita replied. “Including the Christmas kiss.”

Kiichi pouted. “I hate you. I love you, but I hate you.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It’s captain logic. Only team captains get it,” Kiichi said smugly. “So it only doesn’t make sense to you, vice-captain.”

Kimishita groaned. “From my experience, on this team ‘captain logic’ amounts to ‘incomprehensible bullshit.’”

“It’s okay. I don’t expect a commoner to get it.”

“Ah? I’m telling you that the next time you come bitching to me how you can’t read a kanji!”

“Excuse you! I’m your captain now, you gotta do what I say!”

“And I’m your fucking boyfriend, you can’t tell me what to do!”

Kiichi let go of Kimishita’s back to grab his collar instead. “You wanna fight?”

Kimishita didn’t get to reply to the threat because the sudden cold hit their separated bodies full force, and they both started shivering.

“We should get out of the cold, huh,” Kimishita said through his chattering teeth.

“Yup.” Kiichi pulled up his collar, looking visibly frustrated that he hadn’t brought a scarf. “I’m walking you home.”

“Wha– You don’t have to, idiot! That’s a huge detour for you, hurry up and get your ass home before you get sick for real!”

“But a good boyfriend would walk you home!”

“A good boyfriend wouldn’t require  _his_  boyfriend to look after him because he has no fucking sense of self-preservation! Go home!”

“I do got a sense of self-reservation!”

“It’s preservation,  _preservation_! At least get the word right!”

“Who cares? It’s just a stupid word.” Kiichi stuffed his hands into his pockets, blushing and pouting. “I just don’t wanna say goodbye to you yet.”

Kimishita stopped short. His playful annoyance and actual concern for Kiichi’s health disappeared in a puff of smoke. His heart skipped a beat, a burning hot blush spreading all across his face while a sudden bout of embarrassment, gratitude and adoration punched him directly in the heart.

“Fine,” he grumbled, marching over to Kiichi, grabbing his hand and dragging him away from the shrine, heading towards the street. “Let’s hurry then. We don’t have all night.”

Kiichi didn’t hesitate. Squeezing Kimishita’s hand in his, he caught up, blushing but happy, walking so close their arms were brushing together. Their eyes met as if by accident, and suddenly the lights around were brighter, and it seemed like the icy cold winter night wasn’t all that cold anymore.

Kimishita hated to make comparisons like this, but if he had to choose a word for what it felt like... it was a bit like magic.

They didn’t speak much on the way home, but neither of them minded. Everything that had stood between them had been spoken out, all the secrets unveiled, and now all that was left was comfortable silence, the warmth of each other’s presence seeping into the air around them to keep them from freezing. Neither of them was in a hurry to get to Kimishita’s house, and when they finally reached his doorstep, they lingered side by side without saying a word, unwilling to part even though they knew they would see each other again tomorrow morning.

“I, uh...” Kiichi raked a hand through his hair, looking at least half tempted to follow Kimishita into the house, and Kimishita himself was more than half tempted to actually invite him inside. “I’m gonna text you. When I get home.”

“Sure.” Kimishita glanced down at their linked hands, then at Kiichi’s face. “Don’t linger too much on the way.”

“I know.”

“So...” Kimishita said, loosening his hold on Kiichi’s hand only to be pulled back in. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yup. Don’t be late.”

“I’m never late,” Kimishita said with a snort. “You don’t be late.”

Kiichi pulled his lips into a slightly offended pout. “Sure.”

A pause. Neither of them wanted to let go of the other’s hand just yet.

“Come on,” Kimishita muttered at last, unwillingly pulling away from Kiichi’s grip. “We can’t stay here forever. Hurry home before your parents file a missing report.”

“Sure thing. And Kimishita...” Kiichi hesitated for a moment, then he leaned down, his lips almost brushing against Kimishita’s ear as he whispered, “I love you.”

Kimishita’s face heated up again, but he smiled. “Love you too,” he said. “Good night.”

“Night!”

Smiling back at him, Kiichi turned and headed home, slowly at first, as if he still didn’t want to go. Kimishita remained in front of the door, gazing after his back. His boyfriend, he thought. What a beautiful phrase. He had never believed he’d be able to use it in his life, and yet here he was, able to apply it to the most incredible, loyal, caring, dedicated, stupidly adorable human being he could ever dream of meeting.

Kiichi stopped at the corner of the street to turn back and meet his gaze again, waving and grinning. Kimishita waved back, only slightly embarrassed to be caught staring. Most of all he was happy, happier than he had been in way too long. With a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest he watched as Kiichi lingered on the corner before finally returning on his way and disappearing out of sight.

Shaking his head at his own lovestruck sappiness, Kimishita turned around and finally walked into the house.

\---

When Kimishita woke up the next morning he couldn’t remember what he had dreamed, but he opened his eyes with a smile on his face. Somehow he couldn’t shake the notion that something good had happened in his dream, leaving him feeling light and warm and comfortable and more hopeful and loved than he had felt in many, many years.

His phone buzzed moments after he got up, and it wasn’t the alarm that he had forgotten to switch off. Kimishita glanced down at the screen to find a message from Kiichi, every bit as bright and cheery as all the texts he had seen from him since yesterday evening.  _GOOD MORNING MY VICE CAPTAIN_

Kimishita smiled. How had this idiot managed to message him at the exact moment he had risen from his futon? Well, who knew. This was Kiichi, so he wouldn’t be surprised if that guy somehow psychically knew when Kimishita woke up on school mornings. Or maybe all those training camps spent together had been enough to get him to memorize it.

Whatever it was, he was happy. Happy that Kiichi had been paying such close attention to him, happy that Kiichi knew him so well they could attune themselves to each other and fall into their own synchronized pace without trying. Happy that, after messaging each other until they fell asleep last night, he was getting to hear from Kiichi again first thing in the morning.

_Good morning, not-yet-official Captain,_  he wrote back, grinning to himself.  _You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?_

Kiichi started typing, and Kimishita placed his phone down to wrap up his futon and hurry to the bathroom, getting ready at twice the usual speed. Somehow his reflection looked different today, he thought as he stared at the mirror. Happier somehow, even when he wasn’t smiling, the usual traces of stress in his face gone completely, leaving him almost glowing.

_i woke up early bc todays important!_  Kiichi’s reply read when Kimishita returned to his room to read it.  _but its not like im exited or anythign_

Kimishita rolled his eyes, the smirk quickly returning to his face as he wrote his reply.  _Denying something without being asked about it first usually means what you’re trying to deny is the truth, you know? Also, you forgot a c._

_idk hwat ur saing but IM REALLY NOT! and i didnt forget a c tf_

_You did. It’s “EXCITED”. “Exited” means something else._

_now it doesnt. it means the same thing bc i said so_

_Idiot, don’t think you have authority over everything now that you’re becoming captain!_

Giving a quiet laugh, Kimishita pocketed his phone, running a hand through his hair, idly playing with the thought of taming them a little more today. They could use a cut too, he thought, as soon as he found either the time or the money to go to the hairdresser or do it himself. Then again he sort of liked this length. A little longer, he thought, and he’d be able to tie it up. Making a face at the mirror, he pulled up his hair with his hands and observed his reflection. Not bad. Really not bad. He wondered what Kiichi would think if he saw him looking like this.

Oh well, enough fooling around. While the mental image of Kiichi’s reaction was definitely amusing, he couldn’t stand around here forever. The sooner he got to school, the better. Today of all days he really couldn’t be late.

If his father wondered about the reason for his good mood, he certainly didn’t say anything. He hadn’t asked any questions last night, simply welcoming him when he had returned later than usual and watching him happily text back and forth with Kiichi with a smile on his face. Part of Kimishita wondered if he knew what was going on. The rest of him was too happy to care. So what if he did? Going by his old man’s reaction, he didn’t mind, so no need to stress.

Kimishita left the house five minutes earlier than usual, to his own confusion because he had no idea how he had managed to get ready so fast while still texting Kiichi and playing around in front of the mirror. But somehow today he simply seemed to be moving faster than usual, and by the time he arrived in front of the school he had gained another five minutes. Why on earth was he moving so fast? There wasn’t even a reason to hurry, and yet here he was.

Kimishita looked around. The school grounds were still deserted, the club room locked and the pitch empty at this ungodly hour. Stretching, he stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned his back against the wall, gazing up into the sky. It was cloudier than yesterday, but the sun still peeked through, and the fluffy clouds seemed to take familiar shapes as he watched them pass by.

Until a familiar set of footsteps roused him from his thoughts, and he barely had the time to turn around before an arm draped itself around his shoulders, pulling him sideways into a warm body.

“Kiichi,” he burst out, half grinning, half struggling against the hug. “You really did show up early, huh?”

Kiichi nodded, pulling him even closer to his side with a look of pride on his face. “Yup,” he said. “The captain’s gotta come to practice early.”

“Sure, sure. You lazy ass better remember this after the end of this week.”

“Oh yeah? Just you watch me!”

“That’s what you’re saying now, but what about the next time you turn around and ask for five more minutes, huh?”

“Then you just gotta convince me.” Kiichi pouted at him, but his eyes were glinting with mischief. “Like with a message. Or a call. Tell me to get out of bed on time ‘cause you love me, or something.”

“Ah? Like I’d ever do something like that, you spoiled brat!”

“Say what? But I’m your boyfriend, asshole–”

“Good morning, you two!”

They jumped apart. Neither of them had heard Usui coming, and it was anyone’s guess how long he had been there... or how much he had seen and heard.

“Usui-senpai!” Kimishita stuttered out, blushing and hastily adding a “G-Good morning!” just as Kiichi beside him muttered, “Morning.”

For a moment no one said a word. Kimishita tried to study Usui’s expression and came up with nothing. Had he seen anything? Did he know...?

“You guys are here early,” Usui said at last. “How come?”

He sounded innocent, but Kimishita didn’t relax. On the contrary. For someone who had walked in on them standing arm in arm and must definitely have heard at least some of their bickering, he seemed almost suspiciously innocent. The kind of innocent someone would look when trying to hide how much they really knew.

“What do you mean?” Kimishita muttered, pointedly not meeting his gaze. “I’m always here early.”

“And I woke up early,” Kiichi added, staring as far away from Usui and Kimishita as he could. “‘Cause a captain’s gotta be on time.”

Usui chuckled. “I’m glad your taking your job so seriously, then.”

“‘Course I am! I’m gonna be the best captain ever!”

“Let’s hope so.” Smiling, Usui looked from one to the other with the look of someone observing something no one else could see before finally raising an eyebrow with the slightest hint of curiosity.

“So did you two make up, then?”

Kimishita’s face flushed. Kiichi spluttered and jolted. “What do you mean?” they burst out in unison.

“Nothing much.” Kimishita could practically see the halo above Usui’s face. “You two were a little awkward around each other lately is all. But you’re getting along just fine again now, right?”

Kimishita’s blush deepened. From the corner of his eye he caught Kiichi blushing too. “I... I guess,” he grumbled vaguely. “It’s necessary now, after all.”

Usui’s smile turned even more questionable, but thankfully before he could say anything else Tsukamoto came sprinting up, only to awkwardly notice that his watch had been ten minutes off and he hadn’t been running late at all. Little by little others followed him, and the conversation soon turned away from the next captain and vice-captain onto less sensitive territory.

Before this morning’s practice Nakazawa had scheduled a strategy meeting, and considering the moment in the school year it was glaringly obvious what it would be about. The entire team was buzzing with excited whispers as they finally entered the room, taking their seats one by one. Kimishita half wondered if he should sit with someone else to avoid suspicion, but before he could pursue the thought any further Kiichi had pulled him into the seat next to him, crossing his arms as if daring him to move anywhere else. Sighing, he made himself comfortable in the chair while ignoring his teammates’ surprised glances and resigning himself to his fate.

“Good morning, everyone,” Nakazawa said when the team was finally quiet. “I’m sure you can all guess what I called you here for today, so I’ll get straight to the point. Since the third-years are graduating, it’s about high time to announce the new captain and vice-captain.”

Complete silence in the club room. Kiichi nudged Kimishita’s foot under the table.  _It’s us_ , his glance seemed to say. Kimishita bit back a smile, trying not to pick up on Kiichi’s excitement and betray himself.

“It took me awhile to get to the decision,” Nakazawa continued, “but the next captain will be Ooshiba. The vice-captain will be Kimishita.”

For a moment the room was perfectly silent as every head on the team turned to stare at the duo in question.

Kimishita squirmed, quickly giving up on the feeble task of glaring at over fifty pairs of eyes at once. Clicking his tongue, he resolved himself to scowling at no one in particular while crossing his arms, daring anyone around him to make a comment just as next to him Kiichi rose from his chair and got up to his feet.

“Idiot!” he hissed up at him, nudging him with his elbow. “Don’t stand up–  _wha–?!_ ”

Before he could finish the sentence a large hand grabbed the back of his jersey, and he found himself roughly launched up from his chair and onto his feet, almost tripping and falling over forwards. “What the–?” he burst out, blushing with embarrassment while glaring at Kiichi. “I told you not to stand up! Why the fuck are you making me stand too, huh?”

“’Cause people gotta see you too.” Kiichi proudly stuck his nose in the air. “They gotta see us both, since we’re gonna lead this team and shit.”

“Every single person on this team knows how we look like, idiot!”

“They gotta see where we are too.”

Kimishita groaned and face-palmed. “Congratulations, your first action as a captain is to embarrass yourself and make no fucking sense,” he grumbled. “It can only get better from here, huh?”

“Sure can.” Kiichi smiled smugly. “I’m gonna be even better and better and become the bestest captain in the whole history of the world!”

“Way to miss the entire point, moron!”

“Oh yeah? Then what is your point, asshole?”

“It’s that you’ve already fucked up and hit rock bottom! It can’t get any worse! Can I sit down now?”

Clicking his tongue, Kimishita was just about to return to his chair when he glanced at his surroundings and found the entire team staring back at him with various degrees of disbelief, amusement, and second-hand embarrassment.

“Coach, uh...” Ubukata raised her hand, knitting her eyebrows together. “Not to question your choice, but are you  _sure_...?”

“Absolutely sure,” Nakazawa said, taking a sip from his coffee. “They didn’t make the best first impression–” Kimishita blushed furiously, unsure if he should glare at Kiichi or his teammates– “but you two can stop fighting and work together when it gets down to it, can you?”

Kimishita glanced at Kiichi. Kiichi glanced back at Kimishita. For a moment they could both tell the other was thinking the exact same thing as they were.

What a stupid question.

Kiichi rested a hand on his back, and Kimishita bumped a fist against Kiichi’s shoulder. Still not breaking their gazes, they both started grinning, taking delight in this secret only the two of them knew, this bit of knowledge that put them so far ahead of all these clueless people, their poor teammates and coach who had no idea. No idea whatsoever.

“‘Course we can,” Kiichi said proudly.

“When it gets serious,” Kimishita added.

He could basically see the question marks in their teammates’ half horrified, half disbelieving faces.

“Come on, idiot,” Kimishita said, lowering his voice, “sit down already. A good captain doesn’t bask too much in his own glory, got it?”

This time it was Kiichi’s turn to blush as he sat down in a hurry. “You could’ve told me that earlier, asshole!”

“I thought you knew!”

“I forget shit sometimes!” Kiichi smirked. “That’s why I got you.”

“Sure,” Kimishita said, returning the smirk. “Maybe I should change my title from  _vice-captain_  to  _captain’s personal Wikipedia_.”

“I like that. Sounds good.”

“...You really are an idiot.”

The team continued to stare at them in horror.

“Uh, guys...” Hayase said at last. “It’s okay now. You can go back to normal.”

They both blinked at him in incomprehension.

“You can stop acting friendly now!” Kurusu provided from a few rows away, hiding behind Nakijin before he had finished the sentence. “It’s creepy!”

Kimishita and Kiichi both lashed around in unison. “We’re not acting!”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Nakazawa interrupted them in a tone he only used when he was either very tense or very annoyed, “the captain and vice-captain will be Ooshiba and Kimishita. No buts. Mizuki, Usui, try to introduce them to their jobs. Meeting over.”

Another buzz of voices filled the room as the entire Seiseki soccer club rose from their chairs, part excitedly, part fearfully discussing the coach’s decision. Satou and Suzuki came up to congratulate them, Haibara followed, soon to be joined by Kazama and then Tsukamoto. Usui only smiled as he passed by them on the way out, but Kimishita could have sworn he had seen him mouth something that looked suspiciously like “Congratulations!”

Once again he wondered if Usui had figured them out. Or Mizuki. Well, probably not Mizuki; that guy was thankfully too dense to catch on, or else Kimishita would be more than worried about his image in his former boyfriend’s eyes. The rest, at least, seemed to have no idea. And if Usui knew... well, who cared? He wouldn’t tell anyone, and he’d be gone soon anyway. Kimishita could always stress over something like this later. Right now he didn’t want to worry about anything at all.

“So we’re leading the team now, huh?” he said to Kiichi as they left the room side by side.

“Yup,” Kiichi said. “You and me. The greatest duo in history.”

At a normal time Kimishita would have snapped at him for exaggerating, but right now he only smiled. So what if it was exaggerated? He was happy. Kiichi was happy too. It was only natural to make exaggerations like this when happy.

Besides, even if he had never thought of it this way before, right now he was tempted to believe it. He was tempted to believe they would make a perfect team, lead the soccer club better than anyone else could, take Seiseki to new heights and win nationals a second time, and maybe the Inter-High too while they were at it. No more drama. No more misunderstandings. Just him and Kiichi, an inseparable duo who understood each other without words.

After all, now that their feelings were finally out in the open, now that they were dating and happy... what could possibly go wrong?


	52. Change

Ooshiba couldn’t remember the last time he had been so completely, perfectly happy, but it must have been a very long time ago.

He still couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. Just a few days ago he had been so certain Kimishita would never fall for him, that he had only been good enough for a replacement goldfish and nothing else. Just a few days ago the future had looked completely hopeless, terrifying, an entire year of somehow working together with Kimishita while trying to hide his feelings and hoping they would eventually go away.

And then everything had changed.

Ooshiba had no idea what had happened or how it had happened. He didn’t know when Kimishita had stopped pining for Mizuki and fallen in love with him instead, but for now he didn’t care. Kimishita’s feelings had changed. He had broken up with Mizuki because of him. He had told him he loved him, yelled his feelings in his face and then said it again before kissing him, not to satisfy his cravings but because he had wanted to, and he had let Ooshiba feel it with every inch of his body.

Ooshiba had won. After all that struggling, all that waiting, all that suffering, he had won the battle for Kimishita’s heart. He had convinced him that Mizuki wasn’t worth it, that he was the better choice, and Kimishita had understood it at last. Usui had been right. Being patient, being there for Kimishita and waiting for him to understand had been the right strategy, after all.

And now they were together, finally, finally together, and Ooshiba couldn’t wipe the smile off his face anymore. It was permanently etched into his features, with him wherever he went, and even when he managed to stay serious for long enough to look like a respectable captain he was still floating on cloud nine. He didn’t know how to describe it, but somehow it felt like he had been completed... like he was in the very place he had always been destined to be in from the day he was born.

They had been a couple for three days now, and life couldn’t be better if it tried. Ooshiba was captain now, and Kimishita was his vice-captain. They had found back to their near-telepathic way of communication, understanding each other without words, one exchanged glance enough to tell each other exactly what needed to be done. Kimishita was still awkward with the team, sure. Ooshiba still didn’t know how exactly a captain was supposed to act, sure. But they had each other to rely on, and together they could take on any difficulty in the world.

No more awkwardness. No more lies. No more secrets.

He had everything he had ever wanted. He was the captain now. He was the ace of the team, no longer the decoy. And just like on the pitch, he had switched from the decoy to the ace in Kimishita’s heart.

If he had to choose, he wouldn’t want anything about this to change again ever.

\---

“This is a pain,” Ooshiba groaned, staring at the incomprehensible mess of scribbles spread out all over the desk in front of him. “Who the fuck ever decided captains gotta deal with all that?”

“Quit complaining,” Kimishita said next to him, shuffling the notes into what apparently looked like the right order to him. “You’re the one who wanted to be trusted with a responsibility, right?”

“Yeah.” Ooshiba randomly picked up a handful of notes to stare at. “But it’s still a pain in the ass.”

Kimishita snorted, shaking his head and adjusting his glasses. “You’re holding them in the wrong order, dumbass,” he said, taking them from Ooshiba’s hands and brushing their fingers together much longer than necessary. “There.” He reshuffled them and put them back into his hands, casually resting his own atop Ooshiba’s. “Now it should make sense.”

Ooshiba stared at them all in order. “It still doesn’t.”

“You literally just have to read!”

“That’s not it!” Ooshiba replied. “Why does the captain gotta decide all that shit about how we train when we got a coach? It doesn’t make sense!”

Kimishita stared at him for a moment, then he clicked his tongue. “Who cares?” he grumbled. “It’s always been that way!”

“Then maybe we gotta change it!”

“Or maybe you should simply get off your lazy ass and do your job,  _Captain Ooshiba Kiichi!_ ” Ooshiba jolted and blushed at those words, and Kimishita gave him a slightly too satisfied glance. “Think you can’t do it or what? Even Cap– I mean... Mizuki-senpai could do this much!”

Ooshiba stiffened. The mixture of excitement, joy and embarrassment he had felt at being addressed with  _Captain_  and his full name evaporated in a split second, replaced by annoyance and a surge of competitive spirit. Something about being compared to Mizuki decidedly rubbed him the wrong way.

“Oh yeah?” he burst out, snatching the rest of the notes and starting to read through them faster than he had ever tried to read before. “If Mizuki could do it, I’m gonna do it even better!”

“Idiot! Don’t address him without honorifics, he’s still a grade above you!”

“He’s just two stupid months older than you, I do what I want!”

“Upperclassmen are upperclassmen! A good captain should always be respectful and mind his manners, you moron!”

“Wha– hey!” Ooshiba jolted, feeling caught. “I’m the most respectful guy on the whole team, asshole!”

Kimishita rolled his eyes. “Shut up and do your job.”

Ooshiba stared at him. Had Kimishita just had the chance to banter back and not used it? And he hadn’t even smirked at his remark or made fun of him like he usually did. For some reason that felt a lot more odd than it probably should.

“Okay, I got it,” he grumbled, bending over the notes. “Stop telling me what to do! I’m the captain here!”

“Then shut up and act like it!”

“I’m gonna!” Ooshiba huffed and furrowed his brow, replaying dozens and hundreds of practice hours in his head, activities, people, skills they had already honed and skills that still needed honing. What had Kimishita said earlier? They’d have to make up for the departing third-years and their skills. Mizuki, Usui, Haibara, Inohara, Hayase... to be able to stay successful with them they’d have to grow into their shoes or change their team into a whole different thing.

He’d have to talk with Ubukata and Nakazawa about those, he thought. But there were other things he needed to do. He needed to keep the team together, and he needed to teach the first-years to become independent of the third-years’ presence and guidance, not just in terms of skills but emotionally too. Tsukamoto should be fine; as time had gone on he had started relying more on Ooshiba than on Mizuki, and he also had Kazama, who had been pretty independent from the beginning. Nitobe and Nakijin were the more pressing issue here. And still others had to learn how to deal with the pressure of becoming regulars and playing in official matches now, and...

“Practice matches,” he muttered out loud.

Kimishita gave him a questioning look. “What?”

“We need practice matches,” he said, crossing his arms. “Lots of them. The first-years gotta step out of the third-years’ shadow. And the new regulars need confidence.”

Kimishita snorted. “We don’t even know who the new regulars will be in the first place,” he said, making Ooshiba jolt in embarrasment. “But your idea isn’t bad. We all need to learn how to get by on our own when we’re missing so much of the team’s backbone.”

Ooshiba didn’t know why, but somehow that phrasing irritated him. “Shut up!” he said a little more aggressively than necessary. “You sound like we’re weak now or some shit! The new Seiseki can still kick ass!”

“I know,” Kimishita replied with mild exasperation in his voice. “I just meant we need to regroup and learn to rely on ourselves now that the third-years are leaving.”

“Easy.” Ooshiba stuck out his chest. “Just rely on me instead.”

Kimishita blinked at him, then he gave a snort, tapping his fist against Ooshiba’s arm. “Dumbass,” he said without any real malice in his voice. “Then they’ll just have the same problem again next year. We’re trying to make them independent, got it?”

“But I still want them to rely on me! I’m super reliable!”

“Nobody ever disputed that! They can still rely on you, but it can’t be because they can’t do it themselves, got it?”

Ooshiba gave him a long look. “So... like you?”

“Maybe,” Kimishita replied, turning a little pink. “Minus the dating.”

Ooshiba blushed and cracked a grin. Kimishita smirked back. Both of them knew what the other was thinking. If this was how they would always run the team, they thought, they couldn’t wish for anything better.

“So,” Ooshiba said, turning back to the notes, “we gotta teach the others how to do shit themselves so they can rely on me but it’s not their only option. Right?”

Kimishita smiled.

“I wouldn’t have put it that way,” he said, casually resting his hand on Ooshiba’s. “But you’re not wrong...  _Captain_.”

\---

Ooshiba had rarely enjoyed a task as much as leading the team. It had taken him a bit to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do, as well as some welcome explanations from Kimishita and much less welcome (and barely understandable) instructions from Mizuki, but the more he got the hang of it, the more joy it gave him. He had always liked to be relied on and looked up to, but this was something entirely different. Carrying the responsibility over the team had changed the way he felt towards them, raising a kind of protective instinct towards them, a little as if they were all his younger siblings or his children that he had to raise and support as they grew. He wanted to see them get better, stronger, not just for his own glory but because he cared and because their success and well-being mattered to him.

And they were all improving, little by little. Tsukamoto had been anxious about Mizuki’s departure and moving up as a regular and one of Seiseki’s three arrows, but with each passing day he was getting more and more confident, his pure joy of moving around on the pitch and spending time with his teammates beginning to radiate further and further until it was contagious. Nakijin still had his doubts about being able to succeed Inohara as a goalkeeper, but his communication with the team was getting better by the day, and it was only a matter of time and a handful of practice matches until he got there. Nitobe, too, was growing independent; now that Usui was gone he was less tense when he played, less afraid of being sneaked up on and startled from behind, and it showed in every single one of his movements. Ooshiba didn’t have a single doubt that all three of them would make marvelous regulars in the future.

He told as much to Kimishita as they lounged around in his room one lazy Sunday afternoon, technically here to discuss the fate of the team but much too content with the results to find much to talk about. Before long Ooshiba had trailed away from making plans and started rambling about his pride in the team instead, trying and struggling to explain the feeling that had begun to connect him to them ever since he had become captain.

Kimishita gazed at him for a long moment when he stopped talking, then he closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile. “That kind of feeling, huh,” he said. “I think I understand.”

Ooshiba lifted his head. “You do?”

“Yeah.” The smile on Kimishita’s face grew a little. “I feel the same. They’re all still loud and embarrassing and stupid, but... they’re my team to lead now, too. I have a responsibility over them. Maybe that’s the reason.”

Ooshiba turned that reply back and forth in his head, then he gave a nod. “Yup,” he said. “We gotta look after them now, so we gotta care more. Or something.”

“Maybe,” Kimishita muttered, rolling over. “We had to get more invested, so we did. And now we both developed protective instincts over a bunch of soccer dumbasses.” He gave a quiet laugh, opening his eyes to gaze thoughtfully into the distance. “I wonder...”

His voice trailed off, and his smile faded. An emotion crossed his face that Ooshiba couldn’t understand.

“What do you wonder?” he asked.

“If... if this is how everyone feels in this situation.” Kimishita paused for a second, as if struggling with his own awkwardness, then he added, “And then I asked myself if Cap– Mizuki-senpai felt that way too, last year.”

Ooshiba paused. Some of his comfort, the warm, relaxed feeling that had enveloped him all afternoon, faded and dissolved. He tried to get it back, but it escaped his hands, always staying just slightly out of reach.

He didn’t like the mention of Mizuki’s name yet, after all. Stupid as it should be, it annoyed him. It annoyed him when Kimishita brought him up. It annoyed him how Kimishita audibly had to stop himself from still calling him Captain even though he didn’t even attend practice anymore and Ooshiba was captain now. It annoyed him how he said his name, with admiration and reverence and some other emotion Ooshiba couldn’t name, an emotion that rubbed him entirely the wrong way.

Part of him wondered if he should speak up about it. His past self definitely would have. But then what? The mood would be ruined. Kimishita would get annoyed with him for getting jealous over something like that, telling him how stupid this feeling was, and it wouldn’t help one bit. Ooshiba knew all that himself. He knew he shouldn’t get jealous, that Kimishita had broken things off with Mizuki and confessed his love for him and kissed him and meant it, had finally given him all the love and attention and affection he had so desperately craved, without Ooshiba needing to ask for it. No matter how he looked at it, he had won. Kimishita loved him now, him and not Mizuki. It should be obvious.

So why couldn’t he shake this feeling?

Why was it that even as he rolled over and inched closer to Kimishita, even as he snuggled up to him and pulled him into his arms for a cuddling attempt that derailed into a playful wrestling match and laughter, he still couldn’t quite get rid of the lingering insecurity sleeping in his chest?

\---

“Well,” Usui said, leaning back in his chair, “that concludes it. I don’t think you guys will need us anymore past this point.”

Ooshiba stuck out his chest, raising his head with pride. Ever since he and Kimishita had been nominated captain and vice-captain Mizuki and Usui had taken them under their wing, getting together with them every once in a while to instruct them and give advice. At first the meetings had been frequent, but little by little they had grown fewer and further between, until at last they had all gathered here before practice for their final meeting.

“So,” he said smugly, smirking down at the third-years, “I’m gonna be the one and only captain now?”

Usui laughed. “You already are, Shiba. We’re just the old mentors here.”

Nodding, Mizuki reached across the desk to place a hand on Ooshiba’s shoulder, staring intensely into his eyes. “Our job here is done,” he said. “Don’t be sad. We’re going to a better place.”

“We’re not dying, Mizuki,” Usui said, gently pulling his hand away from Ooshiba. “Seriously, the guys shouldn’t have let you watch all those old action movies.”

“Why not?”

“...We’ll get to that later.” Usui tried to sound exasperated, but even so he couldn’t hide his amusement. “What’s important right now is that we both think you guys are ready to go on alone from here. Do you feel ready too?”

Ooshiba didn’t hesitate with his answer. “I’ve been ready for years!”

He fully expected Kimishita to reply with the same thing, but for a very long moment there was no answer at all. When he finally glanced at him he found Kimishita looking oddly serious, sitting there as quietly as he had been for the entirety of this discussion.

It took him a second to notice the others’ gazes on him at all, but when he did he sighed, clicking his tongue and averting his eyes. “I guess,” he said. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Don’t worry about me.”

Usui furrowed his brow in concern. Mizuki leaned over to stare closely at his face. “Are you okay?”

Jolting, Kimishita jumped back in his chair to get Mizuki out of his personal space again, his cheeks reddening. “Of course!” he spluttered. “What are you getting all up in my face for?”

“Oh.” Mizuki straightened and got back on his side of the desk. “Sorry.”

Kimishita grumbled something unintelligible. Usui gave a knowing smile. “You still have doubts, don’t you?”

“Wha– of course not!” Kimishita’s cheeks turned even pinker. “I was thinking! This is a job I need to take seriously is all.”

Ooshiba crossed his arms, subtly inching closer to him. “You got this.”

“As I was saying–”

“Remember what I told you? You think too much.” Ooshiba didn’t know why, but for some reason he was annoyed with Kimishita’s tone, his expression, his entire behavior. Almost spitefully, he reached over to wrap an arm around Kimishita’s shoulders and pull him roughly against his side. “You got me too, asshole! Together we got this!”

For a split second Kimishita seemed to relax, then his eyes fell onto the third-years, who were looking at them with curious eyes. Flushing, he tore himself from Ooshiba’s side, clicking his tongue and patting his sleeve as if trying to dust it off.

“Idiot,” he hissed just loudly enough for Ooshiba to hear. “Not in front of people! What do you want everyone to think?”

Ooshiba didn’t reply. He only stared at Kimishita in betrayal, the embarrassed pink cheeks, the scowl, the glare that reminded him of a cornered cat more than the boy who had confessed his feelings to him. What was wrong all of a sudden? He had been fine with Ooshiba putting a hand on his back in front of the entire team during the captain announcement, hadn’t he?

Did he draw the line at hugs? Or...

Kimishita turned away, facing the third-years again. “I guess Kiichi’s right,” he said, not without an affectionate quirk of his lips, and Ooshiba’s mind relaxed just the slightest bit. “We’ll manage. You two focus on school, no need to worry about us.”

Mizuki and Usui exchanged a glance and nodded. Kimishita leaned back in his seat, looking at no one. Ooshiba stared back and forth between the other three. He felt like he needed to say something. What would a good captain say? What would bring the others’ attention– no, Kimishita’s attention back to him, the rightful captain?

He couldn’t think of anything, and the more he thought the harder it became. In the end he could do nothing except sit there with his arms crossed until at last Usui rose, smiling and giving each one of them a pat on the head.

“Well, then,” he said. “It’s almost time for practice to start. We’ll come with you and say goodbye to the team! Properly, we’ll be crowded at the graduation ceremony.”

Mizuki followed quietly after him, and Kimishita and Ooshiba did the same. But when Usui was already out through the door Mizuki suddenly stopped, turning around and pulling both of them into a hug without warning.

“Good luck,” he said, patting them both on the back. “Be happy.”

Kimishita was very quiet during practice. Ooshiba tried to take over for him and draw the attention to himself, but somehow he felt like his voice was falling flat. The image of Kimishita jolting away from his arm kept replaying in his head, his glare, his blush when Mizuki had got all up in his face. His words in the past few days...

_Even Cap– I mean Mizuki-senpai could do this much!_

_I asked myself if Cap– Mizuki-senpai felt that way too, last year._

Practice ended, and the team crowded around Mizuki and Usui to say goodbye. Many words were said, small gifts were given, some tears shed, but Ooshiba didn’t pay attention. His eyes were only on the figure next to him.

Kimishita didn’t take part in the goodbyes. He only stood next to Ooshiba, quiet and solemn, his expression not revealing what he was thinking. Ooshiba felt tense. He wanted to reach for his hand, but something kept him from trying. Not in front of people, Kimishita had said.

Damn it, what was this feeling? Kimishita had left Mizuki. He had told Ooshiba he loved him, multiple times. He had melted into his touch. He had kissed him. He had looked at him with stars in his eyes. It should be clear as day that he had won, and this meant nothing.

So why?

Why was it that even though he should have won Kimishita’s heart, he still couldn’t help feeling like the runner-up?


	53. Insecure

“Hey, do you love me?”

Kimishita looked up from his notes, visibly taken off guard. Ooshiba’s question had come out of nowhere, even for Ooshiba himself, suddenly bursting into the silence that had only been lessened by the continuous scribbling of pencils over paper and the occasional rustling of turned pages. He didn’t know why he had asked it now of all times either. It had simply shot through his head and burst out of him at that very moment, as if it couldn’t bear to stay in his head unspoken for even one single second.

“Ah?” Kimishita grumbled, his trademark scowl taking a moment to manifest over the look of sheer puzzlement on his face. “Where did that come from?”

Ooshiba shrugged and pouted, his heartbeat suddenly very loud in his ears. “Dunno,” he said. “But do you?”

Kimishita gave him a very long look, as if trying to determine what was going on in his head. Then he sighed, picked up his pencil, and resumed scribbing away at his homework.

“Idiot,” he muttered, not looking up from the paper. “That should be obvious, shouldn’t it?”

Ooshiba said nothing. In his current state, he thought, nothing was obvious. Not even the things that really should be.

Kimishita clicked his tongue, his cheeks turning pink. “Of course I do,” he said. “What are you asking stupid questions for?”

“...Just wondering.”

“Well, you can stop wondering now.”

Nodding, Ooshiba watched as Kimishita kept scribbling lines upon lines of numbers and formulas onto the paper, numbers and formulas that would probably make sense to a good student but were completely nonsensical to him.  _Of course I do_ , Kimishita’s words replayed quietly in his head.  _Of course he does,_  he told himself, trying to keep himself from breathing a sigh of relief.

Well, that was good then. Stupid as it had seemed to Kimishita, he really had needed to hear these words. The reaffirmation.

Just because he was doubting things didn’t mean Kimishita was too. In Kimishita’s eyes everything was perfectly clear.

Then, he thought, everything was all right.

\---

Soccer, at least, couldn’t be going any better.

Ooshiba stretched out his legs, leaning back and yawning as the last of their teammates disappeared through the club room door after practice, leaving him alone with Kimishita. As the captain and vice-captain they had a very good reason to be staying behind together, even if they probably didn’t need to do it as often as they did.

“That was great,” he said, still buzzing with the good mood from practice earlier. They had played a short training match, and Kimishita had been passing to him as much as he could hope for, allowing him to score goal after goal until he was left truly feeling like the ace of the team. “We’re the best captains ever.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Kimishita replied as he plopped down next to him on the bench. “We can still get better.” He smiled. “But you did well today.”

Ooshiba stuck his nose up in the air and beamed, sucking up the praise and soaking in it to let in as much of it as he could, storing it away in his mind for less praise-heavy days to come. “Sure did,” he said. “But you too.”

“I’m trying.” Kimishita closed his eyes, still smiling as he lightly rested his head against Ooshiba’s shoulder. “Still need to readjust to this changed team. But having you to pass to makes things a lot easier.”

Ooshiba draped an arm around his shoulders. “That’s ‘cause I’m the ace.”

“Ace and captain. Like you always wanted.” Kimishita gave a low chuckle. “I guess that means your jersey number’s changing too, huh.”

Ooshiba closed his eyes. Number seven. The ace number. He had never thought of that before, but Kimishita was right. He’d probably be the one to wear Mizuki’s old jersey number next year. The number he had always longed for... and yet, somehow, he wasn’t too happy about the thought.

“I don’t wanna be seven,” he muttered, pouting as he spoke. “I wanna stay number eleven. That’s my number. I’m not handing it over.”

Kimishita gave a quiet laugh. “Doubt you’ll have much of a choice,” he said. “But... I guess I’d like you to stay number eleven too.”

Ooshiba opened his eyes, glancing down at the boy resting against his side. Kimishita’s eyes were still closed, but his smile had wavered, something dark clouding his expression and seeping into his voice. It was as if he had just remembered something he had been trying to forget, and Ooshiba didn’t like this tone, this expression at all.

“Why?” he asked, just to shut out the strange feeling in his gut that seemed to grow with every second of silence.

Kimishita shrugged, but his shoulders didn’t fully relax afterwards. “You’ve always had that number, I guess. Feels weird to imagine you with a different one. Like you’re wearing the wrong jersey.”

_Or the wrong person’s inside the jersey._

Ooshiba’s mind stumbled. Why had he thought that?

“But it’s still me in the jersey,” he said stubbornly, driving out the thoughts. “Me. Nobody else.”  _Especially not Mizuki._

Opening his eyes, Kimishita peered up at him as if trying to interpret his words based on his expression. For a very long, quiet moment, they were simply sitting there, side by side, staring at each other until Kimishita finally spoke.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why it’s weird to picture you in that jersey. It’s usually worn by smarter people.”

Kimishita’s voice had a playful edge as he spoke, but Ooshiba still felt a little strange, the joking banter somehow hitting a little too close to home. “Hey!” he burst out without really feeling it. “Did you just say Mizuki’s smarter than me?”

“Well... he’s still a dumbass.” Kimishita pinched the bridge of his nose. “But at least he’s trying to use his head and learn! Between him and a lazy ass who could be smarter if he wasn’t planning to resell his brain unused, who’s less stupid, I wonder?”

Ooshiba tried not to flinch. “At least I could be smarter! Mizuki’s using his head and he’s still a fucking dumbass!”

“For the last time, stop addressing him without honorifics just because you’re the captain now!”

“He’s not even on the team anymore! I can call him whatever I want!” Ooshiba couldn’t hide a furious huff. “At least I don’t gotta remember not to call him Captain anymore!”

Kimishita tensed, his cheeks turning pink. “It’s a habit!” he spluttered. “It’s all I’ve been calling him for the past year, idiot!”

“Me too.” Ooshiba pouted. “And I call him Mizuki just fine.”

Kimishita sighed, then he cracked a smile, relaxing and leaning against Ooshiba’s shoulder once more. “Isn’t that because you were just waiting to succeed him as the captain?”

Ooshiba hesitated, then he looked at Kimishita’s face, taking in the light smile on his lips, the warm glow in his eyes. Whatever Kimishita was saying, it was all meant affectionately now. Sometimes it was still good to remind himself of that.

“Maybe,” he said, pulling Kimishita closer to him with a smirk, pressing a kiss to the top of his head while he had the chance. “And now I did. And you’re my vice-captain and nobody else’s.”

“Like I’d ever have agreed to be anyone else’s vice-captain, idiot.” Kimishita poked a finger against Ooshiba’s forehead. “I’m only doing this because you nagged me into it.”

Ooshiba’s smile widened as he leaned closer. “Maybe I gotta nag you more.”

“Oh yeah?” Kimishita reached up his face until their lips were barely an inch from each other. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Give it a try, then. Or are you chickening out already?”

Ooshiba didn’t reply, and Kimishita didn’t expect him to. There was nothing to say. All they needed to convey could be conveyed without words as they both simultaneously closed the distance into a soft but playful kiss.

Grinning, they broke apart, holding each other’s gaze for a moment longer just because they could, butterflies stirring up in Ooshiba’s stomach like they still did every time they kissed. Almost immediately he tried to lean in for another one, but Kimishita backed away, placing a hand on Ooshiba’s lips to keep him at bay as he stood up from the bench. “Not now,” he said. “We’ve been distracted enough. We’re here to do our job, remember?”

Ooshiba paused, then he nodded, pushing down the craving that raised its head inside him. He didn’t want to stop just yet. He still wanted to feel more of Kimishita’s side against his, taste his lips against his own, talk and banter with him and bask in every second of having him to himself, without any reason to hold back the urge to hold onto Kimishita and refuse to let go. One kiss wasn’t enough. But Kimishita was right. They weren’t here for flirting and kissing. They were here to talk about important things and figure out what to do with the team.

“Okay,” he pouted, suppressing the desire to complain. His old self might have thrown a fit. His current one didn’t even consider it. He should be happy enough to be allowed to hug and cuddle and kiss Kimishita at all.

_I’m lucky enough already. He loves me. That’s all I’m asking for._

So when finally went home feeling unfulfilled and affection-starved, he didn’t mention it with a single word.

\---

This weekend they didn’t stay in. This weekend they were going to the movies, not even to watch anything special, simply because they had time and felt like it. They had picked out some stupid action flick after arguing between an even stupider action flick and some sort of mystery thing that would definitely go directly over Ooshiba’s head, but truth be told the movie itself didn’t matter much. Ooshiba had simply wanted to take Kimishita somewhere, and the movies had seemed like a likely choice; or maybe he had simply wanted to take him here because it was the location of Kimishita’s first date with Mizuki, and he wanted to show him how much better a movie date could be.

This time neither of them had to wait for the other. Ooshiba had turned up on Kimishita’s doorstep again and they had walked to the movie theater together, huddling under Ooshiba’s giant umbrella as the snow from the past weeks had turned into rain, easily talking about everything that came to their minds like they had never done anything else. By the time they arrived at the theater they were both chilled and sniffling but dry, and just on time to get tickets for the best seats money could obtain.

“You’re such a showoff,” Kimishita muttered as Ooshiba proudly stepped away from the counter, two tickets in hand. “Who asks for the best seats when buying tickets for a stupid action movie?”

“I do,” Ooshiba replied without missing a beat. “‘Cause you deserve it.”

Kimishita clicked his tongue in indignation, but the blush on his cheeks revealed that he did appreciate the compliment. “You’re an embarrassment,” he grumbled. “Well, it’s still better than...” His voice grew quiet. “Than the last time I went here.”

Ooshiba’s smile faded. The last time... that must have been when Kimishita had come here with Mizuki. His first ever date, and one that had left him feeling awkward and guilty and unsatisfied.

Maybe it was only natural to compare the two situations. Ooshiba himself had had the thought before. Kimishita was clearly telling him he liked this here better than the date with Mizuki, too. But still, why did he have to bring that up? He shouldn’t be thinking of Mizuki. His date was Ooshiba, for crying out loud!

Well, no use complaining. That would only ruin the mood. The best thing he could do right now, Ooshiba thought, was simply to outclass Mizuki as much as humanly possible.

“Let’s get food next,” he said, pointing towards the concessions stand. “What do you want? I’m gonna get you as much as you want.”

Kimishita gave a snort, the shadow that had briefly passed over his face evaporated already. “You’ll wind up buying the whole movie theater if you continue like this,” he said with a smirk. “Don’t overdo it, dumbass.”

“I’m not! Just tell me what you want!”

Grumbling something unintelligible, Kimishita stepped up to the concessions stand, standing at an awed distance as he took in all the food and drinks displayed in front of him. His eyes shone and sparkled, wide and incredulous, like a child standing in front of an opulent display of toys during Christmas time and marveling at all the beautiful things he didn’t even know existed. Ooshiba couldn’t hide a smile. There were few things more beautiful than Kimishita’s awestruck face, or more adorable; to see this expression alone he was ready to take him to every nice and expensive place he could possibly dream of.

“Popcorn,” Kimishita muttered at last, after staring at all the sweets and snacks and drinks for an eternity as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted the most. “Everyone gets popcorn when going to the movies, right?”

Something about that question was so adorably innocent that Ooshiba had to resist the urge to squeeze him in a hug right then and there.

“Yup,” he said, very much enjoying his role as the expert for luxuries and fine things in life, mundane as they might be. “Sweet or salty?”

“Sweet,” Kimishita replied with a click of his tongue, looking at him like he had just asked an extremely stupid question.

“Don’t gimme that look.” Ooshiba returned it with a pout. “I thought you’d want salty, to go with your personality.”

Kimishita smirked up at him, and even before he opened his mouth Ooshiba knew that he had made a mistake. “Salty people like sweet things the most,” he said. “Why else do you think I chose a cavity-inducing idiot like you?”

His words had been little more than a whisper, just barely loud enough for Ooshiba to catch, but they had been enough. Together with the smirk on Kimishita’s lips, the twinkle of affection and mischief in the green of his eyes, it was all Ooshiba needed to feel his insides somersault like he was high up on a roller-coaster.

“And by the way,” Kimishita added, returning back to a normal tone and expression as if nothing had happened, “get me an ice cream sandwich too. And strawberry soda if they have it.”

Shaking himself out of his daze, Ooshiba nodded, pulling out his wallet and ordering snacks for the two of them, generously paying with a large bill and telling the confused clerk to keep the change. Handing Kimishita the ice cream and soda, he glanced down at his watch before motioning into the direction of the actual theater. “We should get to our seats,” he said. “We don’t wanna miss the start of the movie.”

“Actually, I don’t care much,” Kimishita muttered, unwrapping the ice cream sandwich and taking a bite, closing his eyes and chewing with delight. “But considering how expensive these fucking tickets are, it’d be a waste of money not to watch the whole thing.”

“Yup.” Ooshiba smiled smugly. “Even if I’m treating you today.”

“And exaggerating while doing it.” Kimishita took another bite, chewing slowly as if the overpriced movie theater ice cream was something incredibly rare and delicious. “Not that I mind,” he added after gulping down a mouthful. “I know you can afford it, after all.”

Something about his tone told Ooshiba that he was thinking of Mizuki again.

Shaking off the shadow of insecurity that threatened to creep over his soul again, Ooshiba quickened his pace, leading them into the dark movie theater and up to their seats, sitting down as close to Kimishita as he could. He had won the race, he reminded himself. Mizuki might be Kimishita’s ex, but he was his  _now_. The comparisons didn’t have to mean anything.

Even if Kimishita sure brought him up a little too often for his liking.

The theater wasn’t too crowded, but it wasn’t exactly empty. A few seats away a group of college-aged guys was seated, three middle school girls in the row in front of them, a few rows behind them a family complete with little kids and grandparents. But at last no one sat directly next to them.

The movie started, and just to reassure himself, Ooshiba reached out and wrapped an arm around Kimishita’s shoulders.

Kimishita stiffened. “Idiot,” he hissed, spinning around to glare at him in annoyance, the bright reflection of the screen gleaming in his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Ooshiba froze, but he didn’t let go. “Uh...”

_What is your problem?_  he wanted to ask.  _We’re a couple, right? We’re on a fucking date! What problem do you suddenly have with me touching you, asshole?_

Kimishita inched forward in his seat as if he wanted to get up and walk out. “We’re in public, moron! Do you want people to see us?”

He said it like he was embarrassed. Like Ooshiba had just overstepped a boundary, and now he was ashamed to be seen with his arm around his shoulders, like he was embarrassed to be seen with him. As if the simple fact that there were some people nearby made him realize that what they were doing was actually shameful, something he didn’t want to admit to in front of anyone he knew.

Ooshiba flinched away, pulling away his arm and pressing it close to his body, refusing to look at Kimishita’s face, those glaring, accusing eyes. “These people don’t even know us,” he muttered, trying not to sound as hurt as he felt. “What’s the problem?”

“Can’t make sure in the dark,” Kimishita whispered back. “And maybe you don’t mind, but I don’t want strangers making comments about us either.”

Ooshiba crossed his arms. He didn’t get it, he wanted to say. So what if random strangers said something? Let them talk. Let them make as many comments as they wanted. He and Kimishita were happy together. Wasn’t that all that mattered? Why did he care so much what people were saying?

Well, this was Kimishita. He cared about these things. But had he always cared about them so much? What was an arm around his shoulders, one innocent gesture? Since when did such a small gesture matter to him at all?

“Like they would’ve cared,” he mumbled. “They’re all looking at the stupid movie anyway.”

Kimishita didn’t answer. He only stared at the screen, as if he was suddenly very interested in the same movie he had called stupid before.

“And you were flirting with me in front of everyone earlier,” Ooshiba added under his breath.

Kimishita stopped in his movements, then he focused on the movie again. “Not openly.”

_To me it looked like you did. And now you just don’t wanna sit like a couple._

Ooshiba didn’t say that. He swallowed the remark and quietly stared at the screen, pretending to care about the movie.

On the screen the story went on. Cars raced through busy streets, and buildings exploded, and tough guys with guns shot at each other on the rooftops of skyscrapers. Ooshiba wasn’t paying attention anymore. His attention was on Kimishita. Kimishita, who was sitting there nonchalantly eating his popcorn like nothing was wrong at all.

Memories flickered through Ooshiba’s head, memories of last year, back when Kimishita had gone on his first date with Mizuki in this very place. How he had felt drawn to Mizuki, wishing he could touch him, rest his head on his shoulder, how unbearable it had been to sit this close... Ooshiba was sitting close to him too, and yet Kimishita showed no sign of wanting to touch him. He didn’t seem drawn to him at all. As if they were just friends going on a friendly outing.

_Do you love me?_

_Of course I do. What are you asking stupid questions for?_

Did he really? As much as he had loved Mizuki? More than that?

Or was he just settling?

Ooshiba shouldn’t think that, but he couldn’t help it. Kimishita had been head over heels for Mizuki for so long. Pining over him, obsessing over every little thing that happened between them. Only letting Ooshiba in because he needed the support, the comfort. He still remembered Kimishita’s reaction after their first kiss. He remembered his avoidance, his fury. He had apologized for that later, sure. But he had still refused to let Ooshiba close for some time, until he suddenly turned on his heel and started reaching out to him and broke up with Mizuki out of nowhere. Ooshiba had gone so long feeling like the number two, the replacement goldfish, that he still couldn’t get it out of his brain.

And why did Kimishita have to mention Mizuki so often? Why did he still think of him so much? Why did a shadow pass over his face and voice every time he did? Why could he still not bring himself to stop calling him Captain?

He was probably exaggerating. Kimishita would tell him he was. But could that change anything about his fears? Could that change anything about the way he felt?

_Am I really your number one?_

_Are you sure you haven’t just carried your feelings for Mizuki over to me?_

_The one you really want... is it me? Or is it still him?_

He had thought he was sure of the answer. He had thought he knew. Kimishita’s words, his smile, his kiss had been enough for him, or so he had believed. And at some point it had been. But the more he observed Kimishita, the more he couldn’t help feeling like things didn’t add up.

Kimishita’s hand found his between the seats, gently brushing against it before threading their fingers together, holding it loosely as he took the last handful of popcorn. In the dark their eyes met, and for a second Ooshiba felt tempted to forget their surroundings and press their lips together, pouring all of his doubts and love and desire into one single passionate kiss.

But of course Kimishita would kill him if he did.

So he only squeezed his hand, gently brushing his thumb across it, consuming the touch even though it wasn’t nearly enough, fully knowing it was all he could hope to get until they were alone. He didn’t let go for the entire rest of the movie, only unthreading their fingers when it was time to get up and leave the theater.

“That was a dumb movie,” Kimishita said as they walked outside, quickly huddling under the umbrella after still finding it raining. “Not worth the money. I liked your fish cartoon better.”

Ooshiba glanced down at him, trying to look smug. “Me too,” he said. “You got good taste.”

“I still had fun,” Kimishita went on, “and the food was good. But next time let’s go to the aquarium again.” He cracked a smirk. “We didn’t get to see all of it last time, right?”

Ooshiba’s heart skipped a beat, and for a second his self-doubt vanished. “You wanna go again?”

“Yeah.” Kimishita’s smirk didn’t fade. “Rambling about fish facts suits you much more than watching boring action movies.”

Ooshiba actually felt himself blush at that.

“That day was good,” Kimishita went on, looking a little embarrassed to admit all that but still happy and relaxed, almost nostalgic. “The food, the aquarium, the Skytree... we weren’t together yet, but I guess it still felt like a date. Even if I didn’t realize it at the time.” This time it was his turn to blush. “Can’t believe you managed to get my mind off things in a time like back then.”

_Get my mind off things._  Ooshiba’s insecurities came back. There it was again, the comparison to a distraction, a replacement goldfish when the one who truly mattered was Mizuki. No matter how lovingly Kimishita spoke, that one sentence was enough to put him off balance again.

“Hey...”

He stopped walking. Kimishita paused in surprise, turning towards him with questioning eyes.

“What?”

“Do you...”

_Do you really love me?_

_More than Mizuki?_

“...never mind.”

As much as he wanted to say it, he couldn’t bring himself to speak out the words.


	54. Idiot

At first Ooshiba thought he was imagining things, but the more time passed the more he realized that this wasn’t all up in his head.

The first few days, maybe the first few weeks, had been perfect. For that short, beautiful time at the beginning he and Kimishita had been one heart, one soul, constantly drawn together, seeing stars and constellations in each other’s eyes and blind to everyone else. All their interactions had been smiles and jokes and flirty banter, stolen touches whenever people weren’t looking, cuddles and kisses and loving affection as soon as they were alone. After all this time Kimishita had finally seemed to look at  _him_ , gazing at him with all the love and pride and adoration he had thought would be reserved for Mizuki forever, keeping all his promises and reaching out to him every bit as much as Ooshiba did.

But of course that had only been the beginning.

Little by little things had changed. The old troubles between them hadn’t disappeared from this world, and little by little they had all begun to resurface again. It had started with the way Kimishita had brought up Mizuki a little too often, the way he seemed to remember him even more than he wanted to say his name. The way a cloud passed over his mood every time he did, the way he barely reached out to touch Ooshiba anymore, only welcoming Ooshiba’s affection when he was in the mood and pulling away or rejecting it otherwise. The way he still refused to do anything that made them look even remotely like a couple as long as there was at least one other person in sight. The way he barely seemed to care about their relationship anymore. The one who kept texting first, the one who initiated affection and suggested dates... it was almost always Ooshiba.

On the surface they were dating now. But on the inside it was like nothing had changed at all.

Ooshiba wished he could say something. He wished he could complain. But then what? Kimishita would get annoyed with him, that was all. Or he would tell him he was exaggerating. Maybe with some luck he would see his mistake and promise to improve in the future, which would last a handful of days to weeks until things got back to the current state.

And that aside... he didn’t want to be needy, or clingy, or all the other things Usui had taught him not to be. He had to be patient. That was how he had managed to win Kimishita’s trust and then his love, or at least enough of it to be able to call himself his boyfriend now. And he wasn’t about to lose these things again now.

Except... if that wasn’t an option, then what should he do?

He had thought about asking Usui a few times, but that hadn’t felt right. Usui might be reliable and good at giving advice, but he wasn’t the one Ooshiba went to when he needed answers. That was Kimishita. And besides, Usui hadn’t seen much of them in the past few weeks anyway. Ooshiba would have to explain everything to him from the beginning, and that felt even weirder. With Kimishita he never had to explain. Kimishita always knew what was going on by the time he went to him.

Should he drop hints? Would Kimishita even get that?

Or should he just bear with it until it got better on its own, if it ever did?

Could he do that? Wouldn’t it just eat at him from the inside until nothing was left?

He didn’t know. He didn’t understand these things. They didn’t make sense to him. All he understood was his gut feeling, and his gut feeling was only telling him that he didn’t like this and wanted to go back to the way he and Kimishita had been shortly after they had started dating.

But, the feeling in his gut whispered on, was that even possible?

He hoped so, but he wouldn’t bet on it. Kimishita had been so happy at first, but even during the happiest times he had seemed to cloud over whenever his relationship with Mizuki came up, even just slightly. Whenever it came to parallels between Mizuki and Ooshiba, direct comparisons, something in his face had gone dark, betraying a strange emotion for the moment it took him to return back to normal. As if he was reminded of something he didn’t want to remember. As if...

As if he really wasn’t over Mizuki yet, after all.

Kimishita had told him he loved him. He had snuggled into his embrace. He had kissed him. He had held his hand. He had looked so happy with him, but how deep had that gone? Deep down, was Ooshiba truly the one Kimishita wanted to be with?

Who said he wasn’t still a distraction to him, like he had always been?

Ooshiba knew he shouldn’t think that way. He knew he should be more secure, more confident.

But after being used as the replacement for so long, he honestly didn’t know what to think anymore.

\---

Kimishita let his pencil roll over his desk, back and forth, picking it up and tapping it against his notes as he went over everything he had scribbled down in the past few days. He should be studying, but today he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He already knew everything that was written down here anyway; there was absolutely no need to repeat it again for the time being.

Besides, he thought as he glanced over his shoulder, it was hard to focus on his notes with this guy sitting next to him, anyway.

Kiichi lay stretched across half the desk, sitting squeezed into the spare chair that was definitely one size too small for someone like him, already done with his homework and occupying himself with the newest  _Jump_. He was holding the magazine at arm’s length, letting his hands and wrists hang over the edge of the desk, long fingers closed tightly around the cover, only shifting position to turn the pages. His hair was even fluffier than usual today, sticking in every direction and framing his face, which reflected every new plot development on the pages with a different expression.

Sometimes Kimishita still couldn’t believe this big, stupid-faced idiot really was his boyfriend now. The thought still seemed like an unrealistic, faraway dream. For so long he had pined over him, battled his feelings for him and dismissed them as useless and unrealistic, and now here he was, side by side with the boy who had first stolen his heart in middle school and conquered it again with all his might now. Honest, stupid, kind and loyal to the end.

Part of him felt tempted to reach over and ruffle Kiichi’s hair or kiss the top of his head, but he let things be. Kiichi was already touchy-feely enough for the two of them, more than enough, and sometimes it was enough just to have him here next to him, peacefully sitting and reading and keeping him silent company.

He just wished the poor idiot had a better sense of timing for his sudden bouts of affection. Comfortable as it felt to be pulled into a hug or have a hand intertwine with his or feel soft, full lips press against his mouth or any other part of his face, Kiichi never cared who was watching when he did it, and that was concerning. Not just because Kimishita wasn’t ready to out himself to the world just yet, or because he didn’t want the comments, the hushed whispers and pointed fingers and ugly words invariably thrown at them. That was a reason too. But most of all he didn’t want Kiichi to be found out by the wrong people.

Kiichi cracked a grin at some event in his manga, and Kimishita smiled fondly. He might not look it like this, stretched across a desk and grinning at what was visibly a kids’ manga, but sooner or later this boy would be scouted and become a soccer pro. The eyes of the public would fall on him. And if anyone found out he had a boyfriend, if anyone ever dug up the secret, if anyone even started spreading a rumor... at the very least his career would be in jeopardy. At worst it might take such serious damage that he never managed to get where he wanted to be.

He just hoped Kiichi would understand that soon.

For the time being, however, things were good between them. They were still leading the team, side by side, together, and Kiichi was still undefeatable at making him feel loved. Whenever Kimishita so much as thought of touching him Kiichi was already all up in his space, and whenever the thought of texting him crossed his mind he found a notification from Kiichi on his phone. It had come to the point where he had to tell Kiichi to slow down sometimes, because happy as it made him, he still needed his personal space and alone time to recharge sometimes.

Well, that couldn’t be helped. Kiichi needed a lot more affection and closeness and human company to feel happy. With time he would get used to it. With time, once he had grown used to the reality that he wasn’t the antisocial introvert he had still been a few months ago.

Yawning, he leaned back in his chair, finally resigning himself to the fact that he didn’t need to keep on studying just because he had time and proceeding to read Kiichi’s manga instead, squinting over his shoulder to make out the letters. He couldn’t understand what was so great about this manga; it was yet another fantasy action story from what he could see, and a very clichéd one to boot. But somehow it was still more entertaining than the magazines he usually read when watching the store and waiting for a lone customer to come straying in.

Kiichi finished reading the childish fantasy manga, turning the page to the next series, which appeared to be a bizarre sort of comedy title, some obscure thing probably a handful of weeks away from its cancelation. After a few pages he stopped, turned back again, and held the magazine towards Kimishita while pointing at one of the characters. “This is you,” he said.

Kimishita squinted at the page. The character Kiichi was pointing at didn’t look much like him, except for a pair of glasses and a comically angry expression.

“How is that me?” he asked.

“You’re grumpy like that. And look,” Kiichi added, turning the page and now pointing at the image of a bristling, angry black cat. “He turns into this when you touch him.”

Kimishita stared at the cat and snorted. Then he let his eyes roam over the page before stopping and pointing at the super-deformed girl chasing eagerly after the cat to try and pet it. “Would that make you her, then?”

Kiichi gave a jolt, spinning around to glare at him with an intensity almost unfit for the light-hearted occasion. “Hey! You think I’m like that, asshole?”

“You think  _I’m_  like a bristling cat?”

“Yup.” Kiichi stopped glaring and pouted, giving a self-assured nod. “It’s totally you.”

“Then you shouldn’t be surprised I’m comparing you to that girl,” Kimishita replied, a smile finding its way onto his face. “Always chasing after hissing cats till they let you pet them.” _And find that it’s not half bad,_  he wanted to add. But he shut his mouth when he caught sight of Kiichi’s face.

Kiichi’s pout had disappeared. Instead he looked like Kimishita had just made a very distasteful joke, his eyebrows drawn together, his eyes wide and too bright underneath, staring at Kimishita in a silent accusation he didn’t understand. But before he had any chance to ask, Kiichi turned back to his manga, pointing at a small fairy-type creature with noticeably blushy cheeks hiding shyly behind a tree. “Tsukamoto.”

Kimishita glanced at him with concern but chose to play along, peering over Kiichi’s shoulder and pointing at a talking hedgehog sitting on the protagonist’s head. “Kurusu,” he said.

Kiichi cracked a slight grin at this one. “It’s ‘cause of the hair, right?”

“What else?” Kimishita read along as Kiichi continued to turn the pages, searching for more characters to compare to their teammates. All of a sudden they both stopped in their tracks, both pointing at a threateningly smiling demon and, in unison, declared, “That’s Usui-senpai.”

They both stared at each other and gulped, grinning awkwardly. “I feel like he’s about to pop up out of nowhere now and say that he heard us,” Kimishita said, looking around the shop for good measure. But thankfully there was no trace of Usui Yuuta anywhere within hearing distance.

“I think he’s one of the good guys though,” Kiichi replied. “This demon guy. He just looks shady.”

“That’s creepily accurate.” Kimishita shuddered, turning back to the manga to distract himself from the haunting image. All of a sudden his eyes fell onto a character he hadn’t paid much attention to before, simply because he hadn’t had any lines; the guy never spoke but communicated exclusively through facial expressions and gestures while always looking slightly confused, even though he seemed to understand what the others were saying just fine. “And this is Ca– Mizuki-senpai,” he said.

Kiichi gazed at the character Kimishita pointed at for a moment, then his expression tensed. “Yeah,” he muttered, “that’s him.”

Kimishita half expected him to change the subject again, but this time Kiichi’s expression didn’t fade. “What’s wrong?” he asked at last. “No need to make this face over a joke, idiot.”

Kiichi didn’t answer at once. He only placed down the magazine and pulled out his phone, tapping and scrolling through it until finally shoving it in Kimishita’s face, pointing at the picture on the screen.

“Here,” he said. “Look.”

Kimishita squinted at the image. It was apparently a manga panel from the same series, badly photographed and captioned with hearts and excited smiley faces; depicted was the silent guy from the magazine, and next to him, happily purring at his hand scratching its ears, the untouchable cat. “Wha–”

“He’s the only one who can touch the cat guy,” Kiichi said as if that explained anything.

“So?” Kimishita shot back, feeling himself get defensive. “Do I look like I had any idea about that in the first place? What are you getting at, huh?”

Truth be told, he wasn’t comfortable with that picture either. Or the explanation, for that matter. It reminded him of older, stupider times when he had thrown himself at Mizuki like some idiot, obsessing over him and hurting himself and others and humiliating himself to no end. A mistake he should never have made. A mistake he wished he could bury under his memories and forget forever.

“...nothing.”

“Kiichi!”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“And I’m saying that’s not what it looks like!” Kimishita clicked his tongue, quickly growing impatient. “If you have a problem then say it, moron!”

“I don’t got a problem! It’s just a dumb manga anyway!”

“Then what are you getting so worked up for?”

“I’m not worked up!” Yanking his phone back with a huff, Kiichi stuffed it into his pocket and crossed his arms, glaring at the magazine. “I just gotta calm down again. Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re contradicting yourself.” Kimishita felt uneasy, a strange sense of foreboding creeping up on him, but he pushed it down, forcing his voice to sound calm. “What’s bothering you? You’d make me explain it too, idiot!”

For a second Kiichi looked almost tempted to reply with the truth. Then he turned his head away, shifting in his chair as if preparing to jump up and run out. “I don’t wanna,” he said. “I dunno how to say it.”

“Then try!”

“No!”

“Why not?”

No answer.

“Don’t bother with phrasing,” Kimishita said at last, internally wrestling the creeping dread that now felt closer and colder than ever. “Say whatever’s on your mind! You can do that much, can’t you?”

“Nope.”

“Why the fuck not? You’ve managed it before!”

“I just can’t! Stop bothering me, asshole!”

Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Listen,” he growled, impatiently glaring at the back of Kiichi’s turned head. “I have no idea what you’re getting at, but either you stop sulking or you drop the childish fucking act and tell me what’s wrong with you! And don’t give me that ‘I can’t say it’ bullshit because you’ve always found a way to say what you’re feeling! What could be so hard to put into words that you don’t even try, huh?”

Kiichi pulled up his shoulders. “You don’t get it!”

“No, I don’t!” Kimishita shot back. “That’s why I’m fucking asking you, idiot!”

Kiichi didn’t answer. His body only tensed up even more.

“Kiichi.” Kimishita sighed, biting back on the built-up frustration and feeling of talking to a wall. “We’re a couple now, moron. You can stop hiding things from me, got it? I’m not going anywhere no matter what you say!”

“That’s not it!” Kiichi said, even though his body language told a different story. “I just dunno the right words. Get that already.”

“And for the last time, I’m not buying that!”

Kimishita jumped up, finally unable to contain his irritation anymore. “It can’t be that hard!” he shouted, slamming his hand on the desk, glaring at Kiichi’s back while willing himself not to grab his shirt and force him to look at him. “Even Mizuki-senpai could speak his fucking mind without problems, so stop sulking and tell me already!”

“Even Mizuki could, huh?”

Kimishita froze. Kiichi’s voice held something cold and threatening, a deep bitterness that sounded like it had been growing in silence for many weeks. “I know he could,” Kiichi said without turning around. “Of fucking course he could. Your Mizuki can do anything!”

Kimishita flinched, staring at him in disbelief. “Wha–”

“Don’t go acting so innocent! I’ve seen you! I’m not stupid!” Spinning around without warning, Kiichi jumped up from his chair, glaring at Kimishita with pain and betrayal and blind fury etched into his face. “It’s always Mizuki, Mizuki, Mizuki! You always bring him up! You gotta stop yourself from bringing him up! You think I haven’t seen how you look every time you think of him, asshole?”

Kimishita stood motionless. Gears were turning in his head, puzzle pieces moving into place. Little by little this entire situation made sense. “Wait,” he said. “You’re jealous, is that it?”

“I’m not jealous!” Kiichi shouted back. “I know! I gotta act nice and mature and not bitch about this ‘cause I’m exaggerating and I’m seeing shit that’s not there and I should be grateful just ‘cause I’m dating you now but I don’t care! I don’t give a fuck anymore! ‘Cause you don’t either!”

Kimishita stumbled back like Kiichi had just slapped him. “What the–?” he burst out. “Kiichi, wait–”

“No! I don’t wanna wait!” Kiichi stomped his foot. “You’re just gonna tell me I got it all wrong and then give me some nice explanation and in the end nothing’s gonna change! Just like every fucking time this kinda thing happened before!”

_He’s got a point._

Kimishita wanted to say something, but words didn’t come so easily. What was he supposed to say when Kiichi didn’t want to listen? What was he supposed to do when nothing he could try to tell him would sound believable in his ears?

“You say you love me,” Kiichi went on, more quietly now, his voice shaking at the edges as he hung his head, clenching his fists at his sides. “But you don’t act like it anymore. You looked really in love for the first couple days, or weeks, but then you just stopped caring. You never text me first. You don’t even let me touch you that much anymore. You just cuddle up to me till you’ve had enough and then you tell me to back off like I’m some fucking plushie you can hug and kiss and then throw into the corner!” He took a raspy breath. “And it’s always Mizuki, Mizuki... you haven’t even stopped trying to call him Captain and it’s been forever!”

Kimishita stared at him in disbelief, disbelief that slowly turned into shame. Had he done all that? Had he let the relationship become one-sided? He had been so happy, so comfortable. But Kiichi... Kiichi had suffered. Kiichi had felt neglected and lonely and unloved, and he hadn’t noticed at all.

_I fucked up. I fucked up big time._

“Kiichi,” he began, struggling against the lump forming in his throat, “listen–”

“No! I’m not gonna listen!” Kiichi stomped his foot against the ground, the thud unnaturally loud in the quiet store. “You always tell me to listen and say nice shit and get my hopes up and then you never change! I’m not gonna believe you this time! I’m sick of your shit!”

“For the last time, Kiichi, at least give me a chance to explain–”

“No! No! No!” Kiichi shook his head so violently his hair whipped wildly from side to side, coming to rest in his face as a tossed, tangled mess. “I’m not gonna listen anymore! I’ve seen through you!” He grabbed Kimishita’s collar, and in the dim light of the ceiling lamp Kimishita thought he saw tears in his eyes. “You say you love me, but you still want Mizuki! I thought you were mine now, but I’m still your fucking replacement goldfish!”

“That’s not it!” Kimishita tried to grab his arm, but Kiichi pulled away and started marching towards the door before he had the chance, picking up his belongings as he went. “You idiot!” he shouted as he ran after him, chasing him to the door and out into the cold without bothering to put on a jacket or warmer shoes, caring about nothing except catching up with Kiichi. “I know how it looks to you, but this is a misunderstanding! If you just waited a minute I could clear it up! Stop running already, moron!”

“Shut up already.”

Kiichi’s voice was quiet, so quiet that Kimishita almost thought he had imagined the words. “I know what you wanna tell me,” he said. “But I don’t care. If you’d just been honest with me and told me you’re still not over him and want a distraction... that would’ve been fine. But you got up my hopes... for nothing.” He shook his head. “I don’t care anymore. Leave me alone.”

“And I’m telling you that’s not how it is, you  _moron!_ ”

Mustering up a last sprint, Kimishita caught up to Kiichi, grabbing him by the arm and holding onto him with all his strength. “I – said – stop – running!” he gritted out, pressing his feet hard against the ground to keep them both in place. “You’re jumping to conclusions, idiot! It’s diff–”

“I said...”

Kimishita barely registered what happened next. All he remembered were flashes, flashes of something that couldn’t and shouldn’t be real.

“...leave me...”

A fist hovering in the air, high above his head.

“...alone!”

Something connected with Kimishita’s face, and he was sent stumbling backwards.

Kiichi turned and ran away. Kimishita tried to follow, but his body wouldn’t listen. His cheek felt sore, bruised. No, not just his cheek. The entire left half of his face was in pain, stinging and throbbing and pulsating through his head until he could feel nothing else.

What... had happened?

Slowly, one by one, he put the pieces together. And suddenly everything began to make sense.

Kiichi... had punched him. Hard.

Kiichi was angry at him. Furious. So furious that he had refused to hear him out, so furious that he had wanted nothing more than to shake him off and punched him in the face.

How had it come this far? No... how had  _he_  let it come this far?

Kimishita ran a hand across his cheek, feeling for a swelling, but his fingers told him nothing. His mind was reeling. The pain in his face had suddenly dulled, only to reappear all the stronger inside his chest. How angry did Kiichi have to be? How hurt, how furious? They had fought so many times before, but never had Kiichi refused to hear him out like this. Never had he tried to get away from him like that or punched him in the face just to get rid of him. Just how long had this been building up? Just how long had he been feeling this way without Kimishita suspecting a thing?

Had Kiichi been hiding it? But that wasn’t like him. Kiichi always complained at once when something was wrong. Why on earth had he been bottling it up? Why on earth hadn’t he said anything weeks earlier? Why hadn’t he let it show?

Unless he had. And Kimishita simply hadn’t noticed. Because they were in a relationship now, and he had thought that was all that mattered. Because he had thought that getting together with Kiichi was the ultimate happy ending, a point where no troubles could follow. Because he had thought things were going well even though something had clearly been wrong for ages.

He had thought it would all be okay now. He had found someone he loved more than he had ever thought possible, someone who loved him just as much. He had thought they would stay together without problems, because it was them, because they had already been side by side for so long. But a relationship wasn’t like being friends or teammates. It was something else. Heavier, more complicated, in need of more work to be able to last.

And now he had messed it up.

He had let down his guard. He had relaxed too much. And now he had messed it up.

The first time the person he loved had loved him back, and he had messed it all up after a measly handful of weeks.

What now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t want things to stay this way. He wanted to talk to Kiichi. He wanted to tell him, tell him everything, how he had first fallen for him in middle school and how much he cared about him and how ashamed he was for ever developing a crush on Mizuki because it had never compared to all the scary and confusing and wonderful things Kiichi’s presence did to him. He wanted to run to his doorstep and barge into his room and pour his heart out until Kiichi believed him, wholeheartedly believed him that his number one had always been Kiichi and not Mizuki.

But how could he do all that when Kiichi had made it so clear that he didn’t want to see him? How could he do that when he wouldn’t let him into his room, would cover his ears and ignore his calls and delete any and all of his messages unread? Now that it had come this far... what was he supposed to do?

_I don’t want to lose him._

The dark, deserted street blurred before Kimishita’s eyes. He blinked, but the blur wouldn’t go away. It only grew stronger and stronger.

_I don’t care what else happens. Just... please. I don’t want to lose him. One more chance, that’s all I ask._

_Even though I don’t deserve it._

Something hot ran across his face, hot and wet and salty to the taste. Kimishita ran his hand over his cheek and came back with his fingertips glistening, wet from what could only be one thing.

Tears...?

When had he started crying?

Kimishita didn’t know, but the tears kept on falling. Faster and faster, as if someone had opened the floodgates somewhere, running over his face and dripping down on the ground. He barely registered it. His shoulders were trembling with sobs, his entire body shivering from the cold, but he simply stood there in the darkness and let it all happen. So what if he cried? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was too numb to care.

“Atsushi? Atsushi!”

His father’s voice was faint, distant, as if reaching him from another dimension. It took him several moments to recognize it at all. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, he lifted his head, wiped his eyes and turned around.

For a moment he wondered if he should somehow hide that he had been crying. Oh well, too late now. And he didn’t really care who saw him like this anyway.

Blankly, mechanically, he stepped out of the street and followed his father home.


	55. Hero

His father didn’t say anything when Kimishita stepped back into the store. He simply took off his sweater and wrapped it around him like a cape, hurriedly leading him back to the desk. “What’s wrong?” he asked at last, confusion and concern so visible on his face that Kimishita felt a twang of guilt through the cover of numbness. “It’s not like you to run outside in the middle of the shift without a coat–” His eyes came to rest on Kimishita’s face, and he stopped mid-sentence. “Atsushi, what happened?”

Kimishita lowered his head. Suddenly he was painfully aware of how bad he had to look, his face tear-stained, his eyes red and swollen in a way they hadn’t been in a long, long time. “I...”

He... what?

“Your cheek’s all bruised!” his father exclaimed, completely ignoring that he had been crying, and suddenly Kimishita remembered that there were worse things to read in his face than the fact that he had been crying. “Are you okay? Do you need an ice pack?”

Kimishita touched his cheek, trying to determine if it hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything. He was still numb. “Not sure.”

“Alright, tell me if you need one.” His father hesitated, then he sat down next to him, still eyeing him with concern. “What in the world happened to you? Did you get into a fight?”

Kimishita didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to answer in the first place. There was such a long story behind this that he didn’t know where to start, if he wanted to start at all. If he told his father, what would his reaction be? Would he support him, comfort him as he always had? Or would it end in yet another rejection, another pain that would hurt even more and longer than anything Kiichi could do to him?

“I won’t pressure you, you know.” His father’s hand came to rest on his back, large and warm and still every bit as reassuring as it had been when he was little. “But you can tell me anything.”

Kimishita took a deep breath. He was still unsure. He was still afraid. This was a risk, a huge one. But... this was his father. The same man who had always been right behind him, supporting him, protecting him, encouraging him to go his own way and be his own person but still rely on him whenever he needed it. The man who had never judged him for anything, no matter how many times he had come battered and bruised from a fight he himself had started.

If he could hope that anyone was safe to tell all this to... it had to be his father.

“It’s...” He swallowed, trying to ignore the dry feeling gathering in his throat. “It’s a long story. And complicated. But it’s what happened, and... I can’t hide it from you forever, I guess.”

“It’s about Kiichi-kun, isn’t it?”

Kimishita jolted upright where he sat, staring at his father in disbelief. “Wha–?” he stuttered out, his face heating up faster than wildfire. “How– How did you–?”

“Just a guess,” his father said, laughing. “You two have always been like this, you know. You care about each other a lot, but that’s why you can also hurt each other so much.” His expression saddened a little. “Did you have a fight?”

“...we did.”

His father didn’t reply anything to that. He simply waited, gazing at him with the same kind, unjudging expression as always.

How much should he tell?

Kimishita considered lying. He considered telling some half-truth that left his and Kiichi’s connection entirely platonic, but he couldn’t think of a way. Their fight had been so deeply immersed, so drenched in romance that there was no way to talk around the topic, not unless he made up a whole different reason for their fight entirely. And he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to lie to his father about something like this.

He hated this. Talking about feelings, exposing his vulnerabilities and embarrassing emotions that he had left hidden inside his mind for so long, only ever allowing occasional glimpses to Kiichi. He couldn’t stand it. But... bottling things up was not a solution. Pushing down his feelings and hiding them from the world wouldn’t make him happy. There was no shame in admitting to having emotions. They were his feelings. They existed. They deserved to be acknowledged. They were a part of him, his personality and identity, and there was no shame in admitting to them.

Wasn’t that what Kiichi had been trying to tell him all this time? And hadn’t he been right?

_Risk it._

Kimishita swallowed again. He took a deep breath, and then slowly, haltingly, he began to tell his father everything. The whole story, beginning to end, unraveling all the knots he had never managed to open in front of anyone before, until he finally got to the subject of their relationship and today’s fight.

His father listened in silence. For the entire time Kimishita spoke, his expression barely changed, and he never interrupted him once, only occasionally nodding at him to show that he understood. When Kimishita finally finished he was quiet for a long moment, the look on his face unchanging except that his formerly attentive eyes were now clouded over with deep thought.

“So that’s how it is,” he muttered at last. “I think I get it.”

Kimishita didn’t dare utter a word. He only stared at his father in silence, breathlessly waiting for his next response.

Only to find himself pulled into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all that,” his father said quietly, squeezing him close and patting his back. “And all by yourself, too. I wish I could’ve been there to offer you some guidance.” Kimishita opened his mouth, ready to protest, when his father loosened the hug a little to look into his eyes, a warm twinkle in his features as a smile tugged at his lips. “But,” he added, “I’m proud of you too.”

Kimishita went stiff. “What–”

“You’ve grown a lot,” his father said. “I can tell. The old Atsushi would never have done so many things you did these past few months. And he’d never have told anyone about all this either.”

Kimishita simply continued to stare at him, slowly processing his words. “So...” he stuttered out at last, unsure where to begin among the hope and relief and confusion. “You don’t... you don’t mind? About me and Kiichi... I mean... that I... that I’m... n-not into girls...”

“I already guessed as much.”

Kimishita couldn’t remember his face ever flushing faster in his life. “Y-You– You– What the–”

“What? Your old man may be getting old, Atsushi, but he sure ain’t blind.” Grinning, his father ruffled his hair with a cheery laugh. “It wasn’t hard to notice the way you’ve been looking at Kiichi-kun since middle school. Or how defensive and uncomfortable you get when somebody tries to bother you about getting a girlfriend.” Kimishita’s face burned even hotter, earning himself a pat on the shoulder. “So I put two and two together, you see? I’ve known since you were thirteen!”

No matter how much he wished he could reply with something coherent, Kimishita had nothing left to say to that. All he could do was sit there, trying to make sense of his feelings, the embarrassment, the relief, the immense gratitude to have someone like this for a father, someone who didn’t ask questions but understood and accepted him for he was. So many people he knew wouldn’t have been so kind. So open-minded. Especially not to their own son.

Swallowing the lump threatening to reform in his throat, he let himself fall forward and sank into the hug, wrapping his arms around his father’s back and burying his face in his shoulder like a child. “Thanks, Pops,” he said quietly. “For... for...”

_For hearing me out. For not rejecting me for who I am when so many people would have._

_For being my father._

“There, there.” The hand patting his back was warm, just as warm as it had been when he had come padding into his father’s room as a small child, barely old enough to walk, frightened and lonely and missing his mother even though he could barely remember how her face looked like. “First of all you need to calm down a bit. You and Kiichi-kun both.”

Kimishita lifted his head, and suddenly the dread and pain and loneliness was back, holding him in a cold grasp that felt even stronger than his father’s embrace. “I doubt he will,” he muttered, trying not to let the pain show again. “Why should he give me another chance? He already gave me enough and I didn’t even notice.”

“So what’s one more?”

He blinked. His father’s words were simple, so very simple, and yet they showed such a completely different view, a standpoint whose existence Kimishita hadn’t even considered. He still didn’t believe him. But he listened on, half hoping, half dreading that if his father said more, his words would actually begin to make sense.

“Sure, Kiichi-kun’s pretty mad at you– or let’s say he’s upset,” his father said, gently patting his head again. “But you know why that is? Because he loves you a lot and feels unloved. He doesn’t want to split with you, you understand? He wants to be your number one choice just like you’re his, and if you can give him that he’ll stay with you for sure.”

Letting out a breath, Kimishita slumped, frustration biting and nagging at him more strongly than ever. “If,” he said with a scoff. “He wouldn’t even listen to me earlier. By now I doubt he’ll ever believe a word I say again.”

“Shush, he was worked up. You need to give him some time and then try again.” His father sounded perfectly unfazed. “How about waiting a day, for starters? He’ll probably have cooled off by then, and you can go and tell him everything you want him to know. How’s that?”

Hope sparked up again, but Kimishita shut it out. “A day is too short,” he muttered. “He punched me just to get rid of me, remember?”

“And still he was careful.”

Kimishita straightened up. Baffled, incredulous, he stared at his father’s face, searching in vain for any sign of a joke.

“What do you mean?” he rasped out at last. “My cheek’s all–”

“Of course it is.” His father’s hand rested lightly on the bruise. “But he could easily have hit a worse spot. Your eye, your nose, your jaw... even your cheekbone. Aim wrong once, and you could’ve come home with a broken bone. But he didn’t. He hit the soft part of your cheek, and just strongly enough to make you stop running after him.” He gave a knowing smile. “Even after all that happened, he didn’t want to hurt you.”

_That’d be so like him._

Kimishita’s throat tightened at the thought. He didn’t want to hope. He didn’t want to believe his father. But it would be so typical of Kiichi. Caring about his safety, his well-being even when he was furious... even when he had every right to be furious. It would be so like him that not even Kimishita’s pessimism could keep out the thought that it might be true.

Damn it, now he felt like crying again.

_You idiot. You stupid, precious idiot. What have I ever done to deserve you, moron?_

“Fine,” he mumbled, hoping his voice didn’t shake as he spoke. “I’ll try to talk to him. And... thanks, Pops.”

His father only gave him a grin and a thumbs-up.

\---

Kiichi wasn’t at school the next day.

Kimishita looked out for him everywhere, but there was no sign of him no matter where he went. He was not in his classroom, not in the cafeteria, and at practice any hopes of seeing him were quickly crushed by people asking him where he was and why he hadn’t been there all day. Kimishita lied through his teeth saying something about not knowing, and that maybe the careless idiot hat caught a cold after going outside without a scarf one time too many, and everyone else accepted it without question.

For the entire day Kimishita was tense. He wasn’t as hopeless as he had been after the fight, not as crushed or afraid, but his heart still felt heavy, his mind racing through a dozen possibilities as shame and regret nested in his chest. He wasn’t debating whether to go see Kiichi or not. His father was right, and his heart was right too, embarrassing as that sounded. He didn’t want to draw this out. He wanted to clear this up as quickly as possible, before this could hurt them both even more than it already had. The only question was whether or not Kiichi would let him.

Impossible, some part of him thought. They had fought so many times before, but never had it become so bad that Kiichi hadn’t come to school afterwards. A day wouldn’t be nearly enough time to calm him down enough to listen. Not even a week would be enough. If any amount of time, months, years, would ever be enough at all.

But maybe, another part of him answered, showing up soon would be just the right thing to do. Maybe Kiichi was sitting somewhere curled up in his room at home, waiting for him and hoping that, just this once, he would go after him. Follow him, turn up on his door, explain to him that this was all a big misunderstanding and prove that he did love him after all.

Knowing Kiichi, the latter wasn’t unlikely. And knowing his current state, waiting too long would only make him more certain that Kimishita’s feelings for him weren’t real.

That thought weighed heavier than the rest, and that thought was what carried him away from the school in a direction apart from his usual road home, walking through half-familiar streets in the dim afternoon light, his body drawn like a bowstring, his heart pounding in a dull rhythm that mingled with the sounds of footsteps and passing cars. He wondered how he should approach Kiichi, how he should explain himself. Should he try to talk to him first? Should he step into his room and wordlessly pull him into a kiss? How should he phrase things? And if Kiichi didn’t want to see him... what should he do?

The road to Kiichi’s house felt both too long and too short, too long for being alone with these thoughts and too short to come up with an answer. Before he knew it he was standing on the doorstep, swallowing and taking a deep breath to compose himself before gathering up the courage to ring the doorbell.

There was a moment’s silence, then footsteps approached, and before he could fully prepare himself the door opened, leaving him face to face with Kiichi’s sister blinking at him in surprise.

“Good evening,” he managed out, avoiding her eyes, those inquisitive brown eyes that were so unlike her brother’s in shape and color. “I’ve come here to see Kiichi.” His voice sounded raspy, and he cleared his throat. “Is he here?”

That wasn’t at all what he had meant to say. Or how he had meant to say it.

His sister’s expression darkened, her brow furrowing as she gave a quiet sigh. “He is here,” she said. “But something’s wrong with him. He complained about a headache till we let him stay home, and... he hasn’t wanted to see anyone since he came back yesterday. I can let you in, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to see him.”

Kimishita gritted his teeth. Just as expected. Kiichi didn’t want to see anyone, much less him. But...

But Kiichi wouldn’t have given up on him in a situation like this. So neither would he.

“I’d still like to try,” he said, meeting eyes with Kiichi’s sister and holding her gaze at last. “It’s important.”

She hesitated, then she gave a nod, stepping out of the doorframe to beckon him inside. “Okay then,” she said. “I’ll take you to him.” Closing the door, she waited for Kimishita to finish taking off his shoes and coat before leading him into the house, walking towards the stairs. “Honestly,” she said in an undertone, “I was hoping you’d come. Kiichi usually listens to you more than others. If anyone can get him out of there, it’s probably you.”

_I hope so,_  Kimishita thought.  _But no promises._

“Who knows,” was what he said out loud. But his voice was unsteady as he spoke, and part of him wondered if she could hear the anxious pounding of his heart.

Then they were in front of Kiichi’s door, and suddenly all words left his mind.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” he registered Kiichi’s sister saying, already turning away. “If you need anything, I’m downstairs.”

He managed a nod and a muttered thanks, and then he was alone with the closed door.

The world was silent. There was no sound, no movement, no sign of what was hidden behind this door. Was Kiichi in there right now? Was he awake? Would he be able to hear him? He might be wearing headphones, and the door might be locked. If he didn’t want to see or hear anyone, he might not even be able to notice Kimishita was there.

And yet something told him that wasn’t it. He had seen Kiichi wearing headphones, and his music was always so unbearably loud that he should be able to hear it through this door. And besides, his intuition told him Kiichi’s ears weren’t covered. Kiichi wouldn’t risk missing him because he couldn’t hear him knocking on the door.

So he braced himself for anything that could happen, took a last step, and knocked.

The sound was loud, too loud against the quiet of the house, the room, cutting through the silence before fading slowly into nothing. Kimishita pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath while listening to any sound.

Nothing.

He knocked again, a little louder this time. “Kiichi,” he said, “can you hear me?”

For another long moment everything was silent. Then Kimishita thought he heard something, almost too faint to make sure. A rustle, a hitched breath. The hint of a gulp.

_He’s there. He can hear me._

_Quick, say something._

There was another rustle, and Kimishita spoke, quietly and hastily, before Kiichi could do something to cover his ears. “I know you didn’t want to listen to me last night,” he said, “and maybe you still don’t. But please, at least give me a chance. I’m telling you everything you need to hear now, and you can listen or not.”

Kiichi didn’t answer, but at least there were no other sounds, nothing indicating that he really had picked up his headphones and covered his ears. He hadn’t even walked anywhere. Most likely he was still on his bed.

_Now or never._

Kimishita clicked his tongue, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. “You know, Kiichi...” he began, slowly and haltingly, desperately trying to sort out the words in his head, all the confusion and feelings that had thrown together into a jumbled, incoherent mess. “What I’m about to tell you is something I’ve never mentioned before, because it’s fucking embarrassing and I didn’t think it mattered. But... I’m telling you now. Because you deserve to hear it, I guess.”

No sound from Kiichi’s room. It felt almost like the very world around Kimishita was holding its breath, waiting for him to go on.

“You... you probably think... Mizuki-senpai... that he was my first love.” Kimishita swallowed, his voice growing raspy, but suddenly the knots in his head untangled, and he knew what he had to say. “But... that’s not true. There was someone else I liked, back in middle school. It was you, Kiichi.” The truth fell off his shoulders with a weight, and he gave a quiet sigh. “My first love was you all along.”

He paused and listened, and for a second he thought he heard a light gasp, a small strangled noise. Kimishita’s chest constricted at the sound. For a second he had to restrain himself from breaking down the door and running into the room.

“It took me some time to realize it,” he went on, his throat tight but his words steady, untying themselves one by one. “At first I denied it. Then I accepted it and thought I’d just make the best of our time together, since I didn’t have a chance anyway. But deep down... I still hoped, I guess. And when you told me about that girl...” His hands clenched into fists where they lay pressed against the door. “I was heartbroken. And all I wanted was to follow my own advice and get over you. Find another fish to pine after and forget about everything.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And that’s... that’s where Mizuki-senpai happened.”

Part of him wanted to stop. He wanted to curl up and cover his head in shame, but still he kept talking, because he knew Kiichi needed to hear it. “He was my type,” he said, “and I wanted to fall in love with someone else, I guess. He was the ace. I was the playmaker. We bonded. I let myself fall too hard. But in the end he didn’t like me back either. My feelings became a useless pain in the ass. I wanted closure. You know what I did.”

Kimishita let the rest of the memories replay in his head, and despite all the shame and sadness a smile crossed his face. “Then you came in,” he said. “You were there for me. You gave me what I needed. And some part of me... I felt like I could fall for you again. But I was dating Mizuki-senpai and I thought you had someone else you liked, so I didn’t let myself. And then after that time on Christmas Day... when you kissed me... I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head.” His face heated up. “It wasn’t about Mizuki-senpai. I couldn’t forget how it felt to kiss  _you_. That’s why I panicked and... and was insufferable to you. I’m sorry.”

Kiichi didn’t answer, but somehow the silence felt a little less tense.

“Over winter break I questioned my feelings,” Kimishita went on. “Something felt wrong about dating Mizuki-senpai... and right about being with you. And then the finals happened, and the fucking hug happened, and I realized it was you I liked and I panicked and was even more of an insufferable ass to you because I didn’t know what to do and thought you weren’t interested and didn’t want you to find out. Maybe you still think I’m making all that up, but you can believe me. I hate talking about emotional bullshit like this. I’d never tell you anything like that if I didn’t have a fucking good reason, Kiichi.”

Lifting his head, he raked a head through his hair, sighing quietly. “As for the rest...” He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his face heat up. “I guess the reason why I keep thinking about Mizuki-senpai is because I’m embarrassed. I feel like confessing to him was a mistake and I should never have done it. And the reason why I don’t reach out to you is because I felt like you were doing enough for both of us. I’m not used to all that... affection, feelings, all of that. Should’ve said something earlier, I could’ve fixed my attitude. If you...” The lump in his throat grew, and he swallowed, his vision suddenly threatening to blur. “If you’ll still have me... I’ll try.”

_If._

Why wasn’t Kiichi answering? Why wouldn’t he respond? Was he even listening at all?

“I know I’ve said it before.” Kimishita’s voice threatened to break, but he kept on talking, faster and faster now as long as he still could. “But I mean it now. You’ve already taught me so much. You’ve been more patient with me than I could ever deserve, and that’s the only fucking reason why I’m here now. I don’t care about Mizuki-senpai. I care about you, got it? The one I want by my side... it’s you. It’s always been you, idiot! Get that into your head!”

His voice nearly failed him, and he swallowed hard. “That’s all I can say,” he said. “But please, Kiichi... answer me! Why are you so quiet? Even if you tell me to go away, at least say  _something!_ ”

“...not locked.”

Kimishita’s head shot up. “What?”

“The door.” Kiichi’s voice was quiet, shaky, interrupted by a quiet sniffle. “It’s not locked.”

_Does that mean he believes me?_

His heart beating wildly against his ribcage, Kimishita gently pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was dark, the last rays of the disappearing sun reflecting dimly on the ceiling, the shadow of the neighboring house cutting off any real light. Kiichi sat curled up on his bed, still wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday, his hair a mess and his eyes red and swollen as if he had been crying for hours. He looked small sitting there, helpless. Just a child, hurt and crushed by a heartbreak that was too big for him.

“Kiichi,” Kimishita whispered. “You...”

“Did you mean that?”

Kimishita stopped short. “What?”

“All that stuff you said.” Kiichi sniffled again, wiping his eyes. “Did you really mean that? I want you to mean that... so if you don’t...” The sentence trailed off, and a tear ran over his face to disappear somewhere in the fabric of his sleeve.

Kimishita’s breath hitched. Dropping his bag, he crossed the distance between the door and the bed, kneeling down in front of Kiichi to gaze up at his puffed-up face. “I mean it,” he managed out. “Have you ever heard me say something embarrassing or emotional and not mean it, idiot?”

Kiichi sniffled again and said nothing. For some time the room was perfectly silent except for Kiichi’s softly hiccuping breaths.

“But...” he said at last. “You always freak out when I wanna touch you around people. Like you’re embarrassed or some shit.”

Kimishita pinched the bridge of his nose. “You still planning to go pro?”

“Uh... what?”

“If you want to go pro,” Kimishita said, lifting his hand and trying to poke Kiichi’s forehead, but it came out as more of an affectionate tap, “then you can’t let people know you have a boyfriend. Soccer players don’t have boyfriends. They have girlfriends or nothing, got it? If they catch you with me, it can ruin your career. And before you say anything,” he added as Kiichi opened his mouth, “I’m not letting you risk your career for me! It’s not worth it, understand?”

Kiichi paused for a long moment. Then he said, “Why, are you not gonna like me if I don’t go pro?”

“Wha–”

“You say you like me,” Kiichi went on, “but are you still gonna do that if I can’t play soccer anymore... or if I stop being rich and handsome...”

Kimishita stared at him in horror. “Idio– Why would you ever say that?”

“‘Cause...” Another tear ran down Kiichi’s face, and he turned his head away. “What else do I got to make people fall in love with me?”

“...You idiot.”

This time it was Kimishita’s turn to tear up, and he furiously wiped them off. “Listen,” he said, part furious, part frustrated, trembling with overwhelming compassion and sadness. “You wonder what you have to make people love you? Fine. I’m telling you. But you better pay attention, because I’m only telling you once, dumbass!”

Rising to his feet, he stood in front of Kiichi, glaring at him while desperately trying to keep his voice in check. “You’re kind,” he said. “You’re caring and loyal, and once you like someone you go through hell for them. You’re emotional... a little too emotional sometimes. Embarrassing, sure. But... you’ve always been there for me when I needed it. You didn’t even need to ask... you just knew. You still do. And you know exactly what to do to make me forget about everything that bothers me and help me feel comfortable and worthy... and loved. You think people fall for you for your looks and soccer skills? Idiot.” He clicked his tongue. “The part of you I fell in love with... it’s in here.” Averting his eyes, he extended a hand to tap it against Kiichi’s chest, where his heart lay. “You’re a hero, Kiichi.”

For a long, slow moment Kiichi sat perfectly still, gazing at him in awe and perfect wonder.

Then he leaped forward to wrap his arms around Kimishita’s waist and bury his face in his chest.

“I love you,” he managed out between sobs, desperately holding onto him for dear life. “I love you, Kimishita... no... Atsushi. I love you so much it hurts...”

Kimishita cracked a smile, pulling him closer and running a hand through his hair, that soft, fluffy red hair he had dreamed of touching so many times. “I love you too, Kiichi,” he said. “More than I ever thought I could love someone. So don’t ever think you’re just a replacement again, idiot!”

Kiichi gave another sob, but he nodded against Kimishita’s shirt. “Okay.”

“That’s good.” Shifting forward, Kimishita scrambled onto the bed, letting Kiichi flop down on top of him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Next time I do something to make you insecure, complain at once. Understood?”

Kiichi nodded again. “You too,” he said. “Promise?”

Kimishita smiled.

Shifting his weight on the mattress, he rolled them both over, smirking down at Kiichi’s face, still so tear-stained but now glowing with happiness and raw emotion. Relishing the sight for a moment, he leaned down to meet Kiichi’s lips in a gentle but hungry kiss.

“Sure,” he said. “It’s a promise.”

It was all he got to say before Kiichi pulled him back down, and this time their lips didn’t part again as quickly.


	56. Future

Kimishita opened his eyes to find Kiichi already up. The sun had barely risen over the horizon, the first birds singing and chirping in the blossoming cherry tree outside the window, but Kiichi was awake already, sitting on the side of the bed as if wanting to get up but still waiting for something to happen. His hair was still a mess, poking this way and that and lying flat against his head on the side that had been buried in the pillow, his pajama shirt crinkled in some places, too loose in others, but still unable to conceal the broad back and shoulders that grew to look more and more adult-like with every passing year.

He had seen this sight a handful of times before by now, but still Kimishita couldn’t help smiling. Ever since they had made up he and Kiichi had become closer than ever, and even though he still felt like he didn’t try hard enough to show Kiichi his love, the look of pure joy on his boyfriend’s face every time he did was enough to tell him he was on a good way. Days upon days had gone by since that tear-stained evening in this very room; days had turned into weeks, and winter had melted into spring as the school year ended, the third-years graduated and spring vacation came and passed. And now it was April, and a new school year was upon them once more.

Which was probably the reason why Kiichi was up without an alarm clock at this ungodly hour.

“Morning, Captain,” he said with a yawn, lifting his head of the impossibly soft pillow with some regret. “You’re up early.”

Kiichi gave a jolt, visibly snapping out of some deep thoughts as he spun around, leaning back where he sat to look down at Kimishita. “You’re awake,” he said, blinking owlishly and generally sounding as un-captainlike as possible. “Good morning.”

“Of course I’m awake, I always get up at this time at home.” Kimishita stretched, almost sitting up before changing his mind and rolling over to lie on his back. “Why are  _you_  surprised? I should be the one surprised you lazy ass are awake before noon without complaining.”

Kiichi stuck up his nose with a proud smile. “Captains gotta get up early.”

“Yeah, right.” Kimishita raised an eyebrow, then he smirked. “Nervous?”

“Nope,” Kiichi said at once, but the telltale blush on his face was enough to betray his lie.

“Not nervous, my ass.” Yawning again, Kimishita closed his eyes, only to change his mind and open them again a second later because Kiichi’s expression was too good to miss. “Look at you, your hand’s shaking.”

“Is not!” Kiichi burst out, reflexively looking down at his hand.

“The other hand, idiot.”

Kiichi glanced down at his other hand, looking more and more embarrassed with every passing second. “It’s not shaking! Nothing here’s shaking, asshole!”

Kimishita couldn’t help it; he gave a snort, reaching over to grab Kiichi’s hand without even bothering to hide his laugh. “I know it’s not shaking,” he said. “I was bluffing, dumbass. And you fell for it.”

“Wha– Hey! Asshole!” Kiichi threw a playful punch at him, but Kimishita dodged, and his fist sank deep into the pillow instead. “Do that again and I’m kicking your ass!”

“You’re threatening your own vice-captain? The cool, responsible captain of the Seiseki soccer club?” Kimishita shook his head at him, smirking. “What will the team think, huh?”

Kiichi straightened so abruptly he nearly lost balance.

Brushing off the playful bickering, he stretched, pulling his legs back on the bed and flopping backwards onto the mattress where he came to lie next to Kimishita. “I’m really not nervous,” he mumbled with a pout. “I’m just... excited.”

“Ah.” Kimishita wasn’t done messing with him yet. “Like a kid before a field trip.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true. You are a kid,” Kimishita said, shifting to lie a little closer to him, closing his eyes. “But you’ve grown a lot. And you’re still growing.” He smiled. “You’ll make a good captain, Kiichi.”

Kiichi’s head shot up. “Really?”

“Wha– Of course! Don’t act like I never said that befo–”

“Really really?”

There was a creak in the mattress, and Kimishita opened his eyes to find Kiichi all up in his face, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride, excitement and mischief. “Say it again,” he said. “I gotta record it with my brain so I can play it again whenever I wanna.”

Kimishita’s face heated up. “As I said,” he replied sharply, “I told you before! There’s no need for me to repeat it over and over just to feed your already overinflated ego!”

“Just one more time!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“I said no!”

Kiichi gave a frustrated huff, then he sighed and pulled his lips into the most impossible pout. His eyes blinking down at Kimishita were those of a pleading puppy-dog.

Damn him and his impossible cuteness. And damn Kimishita for being so easy to manipulate.

“Fine,” he grumbled, averting his eyes before Kiichi’s adorably stupid expression could soften him even more. “But just once, so you better listen carefully, moron!”

“Yup!” The triumph was evident in Kiichi’s voice. “I’m listening.”

...Damn this guy, really.

“Fine! You’ll make a good captain.” Kimishita clicked his tongue. “Happy now?”

He half expected to be tackled with a hug and crushed under the weight of a very warm and happy idiot, but for a very long moment nothing happened at all. Kiichi simply lay there propped up on his elbow, still all up in Kimishita’s face, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Atsushi?” he asked at last.

Kimishita shifted, still feeling butterflies stir up inside him at the use of his first name. “What?”

“I love you.”

The sentence was so simple, so casual, and yet Kimishita couldn’t help the spark of joy that shot through him at these words. It had taken Kiichi some time to say them directly, and even now Kimishita was still proud of him whenever he did. Because each time the words came more easily. Each time they sounded more and more natural, as if Kiichi felt more and more assured of his own feelings every time he spoke them again.

“Idiot,” Kimishita said, smiling and extending his arms to pull him down into a kiss. “Love you too, Kiichi.”

Kiichi snuggled close to him, nuzzling his shoulder and crushing him under his weight and affection. “I love you more.”

“This isn’t a competition, dumbass.”

“I’m not competing.” Kimishita didn’t need to see Kiichi’s face to know he was grinning from ear to ear. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“You know I can’t agree to that, moron,” Kimishita muttered into the messy spikes of his hair. “That just means somebody will become unhappy.” He glanced to the side, sighing at the resurfacing memory of their fight. “Let’s just say we both love each other the same amount.”

Kiichi hesitated for a moment, then he nodded into Kimishita’s shoulder. “Mmmkay. But I still love you the most.”

“Wha– Were you even listening?”

“Yup.” Lifting himself off, Kiichi rolled onto his back again, a dazzlingly bright and stupidly smug smile on his face. “I love you. You love me. Everything’s good.”

Kimishita gazed at him. Some tiny part of him was tempted to say something back, continue their playful banter, but the rest of him was too lazy and relaxed and happy to bother. Kiichi was right, he thought. They were both together, spread out on this king-sized bed, resting their heads on the same pillow, with nowhere to go to for at least twenty more minutes, nowhere to be except here, side by side and comfortable. Later today they would go to school and rejoice over being put in the same class for their third year, and after school they would stand in front of a row of third-years and introduce themselves as the captain and vice-captain, coordinating the tryouts and looking for diamonds in the rough. And then they would lead the new team through the Inter-High and the winter tournament again, aiming for nothing less than the national title.

They had a lot of pressure resting on them, Kimishita knew. People were expecting so much, and after the departure of their seniors they had some big boots to fill. But somehow he wasn’t worried. Kiichi was with him. The two of them would make it work, they always had. As long as he had Kiichi, there was no reason to worry. And Kiichi had made it clear enough that he wasn’t going anywhere.

_I love you. You love me. Everything’s good._

That line should have been his, Kimishita thought. For so many years he had thought this would never happen. He had thought he would never stand a chance with Kiichi, with anyone; he had thought he was unlovable to everyone he fell for, destined to drive away even the people he might have a chance with. He had never expected to wake up one day and find someone next to him, smiling back at him and engaging in playful banter and cuddling up to him and kissing him, every bit as happy to be together as Kimishita was. Never in his life had he expected to find himself so completely, selflessly, unconditionally loved.

Kiichi was right. Everything was good. And the things that weren’t good yet would soon get better. It was only a matter of time and hard work and a little bit of good luck.

“Yeah,” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head against Kiichi’s shoulder, feeling it rise and fall with every breath. “Couldn’t be better.”

Smiling to himself, he relaxed against Kiichi’s side and drifted off into a dreamlike half-sleep until the two of them were roused by the ring of the alarm.

\---

Breakfast at Kiichi’s place was quickly starting to become routine.

At first Kimishita had been awkward around the house’s lofty dining room, the gigantic table with its designer chairs and the near-impossible array of different foods spread out on it at breakfast time. The first time he had eaten here he had needed to force himself not to stop in the doorframe staring at the room in awe, as if he was in a museum, not allowed to touch a single one of the priceless things he saw. The next few times had still been awkward, especially when Kiichi’s family was at home; but by now he was used to the presence of his parents, if they were there at all, and with his sister he was already in the middle of forming an unexpected friendship. He had always found her rather likable, and now that he knew her a little that impression had only intensified. She was smart, serious, hardworking, used to Kiichi’s nonsense, and trustworthy enough that the two of them had let her in on the secret that they were dating.

Today she was already at the table when they came in, munching on a sandwich and sipping her orange juice. She looked up as they stepped inside, quickly chewing and swallowing a bite before rising from her chair and wishing them a good morning.

“Morning, Sis,” Kiichi muttered in passing, just as Kimishita gave a slight bow and said, “Good morning, senpai.”

“Morning, Kimishita-kun! I didn’t know you were staying over,” she said with a smile before turning to shoot a playful glare at her brother. “Did you hear what he said, Kiichi? When it comes to manners you could really learn a thing or two from your boyfriend!”

Kiichi, already in the middle of stuffing a croissant into his mouth before even bothering to sit down, turned around and glanced up. “Hm?”

Kimishita and Mikoto exchanged a glance and sighed.

“Hey, don’t eat while standing up,” Kimishita said, helping himself to a plate and a cup of coffee while trying to decide what he should eat today. “It’s unhealthy.”

“Why?” Kiichi replied around a mouthful of croissant. “What’sh wrong wi’ it?”

“And don’t speak with your mouth full!”

Mikoto threw one glance at them and started laughing.

“Don’t mind me,” she said when both Kimishita and Kiichi gave her a questioning stare. “I’m just glad Kiichi has you looking after him now, Kimishita-kun. I thought I’d have to be the one telling him all these things forever!”

Kimishita went pink, hiding his face behind his coffee cup under the guise of taking a sip. “You’re welcome.”

Kiichi looked from one to the other, then he swallowed his mouthful with one terrifying gulp as he jumped to his feet. “Hey!” he burst out. “Nobody’s gotta tell me that shit anymore! Don’t act like you handed me over to Atsushi, stupid Sis!”

“And who asked me how to spell ‘restaurant’ just this week?” Mikoto shot back, making a face at him. “You can’t even spell it, let alone act right in one!”

“I do know how to act in one! I just dunno how to spell it ‘cause the spelling is shit!”

“‘I don’t gotta study ‘cause I already know everything anyway!’ Who said that again, back in third grade?” Mikoto finished her orange juice. “And who got grounded by Mom and Dad when they saw his report card?”

Kimishita gave a snort. Kiichi turned as red as his hair, his ears positively burning. “Shut up!” he shouted. “Don’t bring that old shit up in front of Atsushi! I was a kid!”

“‘I don’t need to practice, I’m already a genius.’“ Kimishita leaned back in his chair with a mock imitation of Kiichi’s voice. “And then you got your ass handed to you by Tsukamoto.”

Kiichi went redder and redder. “Did not!”

“Yes, you did! At least he didn’t collapse in the middle of a match the one time he bothered to play properly!” Kiichi looked like he was about to have steam coming out of his ears, and Kimishita bit back a grin. “Were you still a kid less than a year ago?”

“He is still a kid,” Mikoto said, visibly enjoying this as much as Kimishita did. “Just the other day he screamed like a little girl over a spider in the bathroom.”

Kiichi gave a furious huff as he stood there, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t scared of a fucking spider! I thought it was a scorpion and it was gonna kill me!”

“Scorpions don’t even live here!” Kimishita and Mikoto shouted back in unison.

Kiichi stomped his foot. “How should I know that?”

Kimishita and Mikoto only looked at each other like the protagonist of a self-aware comedy series would look at the camera.

“Don’t bother explaining,” Mikoto said at last, dismissively waving her hand. “He’ll have forgotten it again a second later.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Putting a thick layer of strawberry jam on his toast, Kimishita took a bite and chewed. “He’s old enough to look things up by himself.”

Kiichi gave another huff and furiously sat back down in his chair, brooding over his half-eaten plate of food and pouting. “Asshole!” he said in Kimishita’s direction. “You’re  _my_  boyfriend! Why do you team up with my sis, you traitor?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Leaning in, Kimishita smirked up at him from below, half playful, half seductive, fully aware of the effects of this expression as he watched Kiichi turn a delightful shade of red. “It’s payback,” he said. “For yesterday.”

Kiichi opened his mouth and closed it again, repeating the motion several times before he managed to get a word out. “Uh...” he stuttered at last. “What did I do yesterday?”

“What did you do, my ass! You kept me up half the night, how about that?”

Mikoto choked on her orange juice. “H-Hey!” she spluttered out, blushing, coughing and wiping her mouth. “No one wants to know what you two did in my brother’s room!”

Kimishita blinked at her in incomprehension, then it was his turn to blush, his face, neck and ears heating up faster than an explosion. “Wha– Not like that!” he burst out. “We didn’t do anything! He kept on asking questions is all.” He clicked his tongue, pointing at Kiichi in irritation. “’Atsushi, what if I do this? What if I do that? Do you think this will make the best impression?’ I don’t know! If you’re too nervous to sleep, don’t drag me into it, moron!”

Kiichi pouted unapologetically. “But you’re always so good at this advice shit. I thought you’d know.”

“I didn’t.” Kimishita yawned. “And now we’re both sleep-deprived for the try-outs. Fantastic job, Captain.” He drained his cup and poured himself more coffee. “What kind of first impression will it make if the captain and vice-captain are both panda-eyed and yawning, huh?”

“I don’t care.” Kiichi gave a smug smile. “The hotness of hot guys can’t be ruined by a bunch of dark circles.”

“Great for you! Unfortunately, that still leaves m–”

“I said hot  _guys_.” Kiichi stared Kimishita dead in the eye. “Learn to listen, Atsushi.”

Kimishita processed the words for a moment and emerged on the other side with a surprise.

“Wha–” he burst out, feeling his face heat up all over again, his brain blanking on everything but insults and angry spluttering. “Did you just–? D-Don’t say something like this in front of people, idiot!”

“You two are impossible.”

With a sigh and a smile Mikoto picked up her empty plate and glass, rising from her chair and heading towards the door. “Well, I have to be off,” she said. “Be nice, boys! Good luck to you both for the try-outs!”

Kimishita and Kiichi exchanged a glance. Then they smiled. And suddenly it was clear as day that they were both thinking the same thing.

“We don’t need it.”

\---

After all, they had each other.

The day went by. Kiichi didn’t leave Kimishita’s side all day, and Kimishita didn’t leave Kiichi’s. They sat in class together, ate lunch together, made their way to practice together. Kiichi still looked jittery, but he didn’t seem nervous anymore, just happy and excited for the afternoon and all the new faces that would join them today. Kimishita had to hide a smile all day. He had dreaded it a little before, the pressure, the responsibility, the question if he could really do it. But he knew better now. This was just another task he could tackle. And tackle it he would, no matter what happened.

After all he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to do everything himself, deal with every problem on his own. Kiichi was by his side. Kiichi, who knew him. Kiichi, who understood him. Kiichi, who always knew what to do or say to make him talk about something and help him through a trouble he couldn’t deal with alone. And he would return the favor. As the vice-captain, that was his task. As Kiichi’s boyfriend, it was his desire. Kiichi deserved it, no matter what.

_I’ve changed so much, huh._

Sometimes Kimishita couldn’t believe it himself. Just a year ago he had been unsociable, grumpy, completely holed up in his self-induced isolation, stubborn about trying to handle things that were too big for him to handle by himself. A year ago he had been hopelessly in love with Mizuki just because he hadn’t wanted to keep pining after Kiichi, certain that he would never get or deserve anything better. And now here he was, walking towards the pitch in a swirl of cherry petals, breathing the clear spring air and feeling stronger and more happy than ever before.

One year. No, not even that. A small handful of months.

That was all it had taken to turn his life upside down. And he would never have it any other way.

His eyes met Kiichi’s, and they both smiled. Their hands brushed against each other in a subtle gesture, a promise to close around each other and thread fingers together later when they were alone. Then Kimishita reached up and placed a hand on Kiichi’s back, and Kiichi wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Ready?” he said.

Kimishita’s smile widened. “Ready when you are.”

They took a deep breath, and side by side they both stepped onto the pitch.

A whole year lay ahead of them. A whole year of leading the team together, new people, new challenges. And then after that another year, and another, and another. As many as they wanted. Maybe forever. Kimishita wasn’t one to believe in staying together for all their lives, and yet as he looked at Kiichi he couldn’t help but dream. It wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t even unlikely. This was them. He and Kiichi, who had faced so many troubles and conflicts and challenges and come out of it happy together.

Kimishita hadn’t suddenly lost all his fears or worries or insecurities. But they had long lost their bite. Whatever life threw at him, he knew he could handle it. He was strong enough.

After all, whatever he did, he could always count on this beautiful, caring, dedicated, impossible human being by his side.

And honestly, that would make everything so much easier.

A whistle rang across the pitch. Kimishita and Kiichi stepped in front of the lined-up first-years, side by side.

And the first day of their future began.


End file.
